


Loser in Love

by capitalR



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Grantaire, Drug Use, Eventual Enjolras/Grantaire, Everyone just wants Grantaire to be happy, Grantaire is good at a lot of things, I may be a terrible person., M/M, Musician Grantaire, Sad Grantaire, Sexual Content, grantaire is sad, too many tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-22 10:08:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 38,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2504000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capitalR/pseuds/capitalR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And then there were the pills. Pills and booze were a decidedly bad mixture according to Grantaire's friends. How does one help a young man who doesn't believe he's worth the effort?<br/>Grantaire has a lot of love to give, so long as it isn't for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Un.

From an outsiders perspective, tolerance was a generous term to use when it came to Grantaire and Enjolras. They managed to argue nearly every time they were near each other. The only reason they saw each other as much as they did was because they happened to share the same group of friends.  


Their issue was a simple one, when it came down to it. Enjolras was very passionate. Grantaire wasn't. Getting into the technicalities of that issue, Enjolras was very passionate about his people's history, and how the injustice never truly stopped. Grantaire was the opposite. The French Revolution and the June Rebellion and all of that nonsense happened way too long ago to even be relevant anymore, and he figured so long as his friends were still breathing, all was well. It just didn't matter.  


Grantaire didn't really care much for anything actually. He cared for art, that much was certain. His hands were often stained with one medium or another. Carried a sketchbook around with him nearly everywhere. The boy was gifted. If only he could see it.  


His friends worried, but it was no use talking to him about it all. Grantaire drank a lot. Had a habit of throwing caution to the wind. And then there were the pills. No one could place quite when it started happening, but Grantaire had gotten into prescription pills. Pills and booze were a decidedly bad mixture according to his friends. They only found out about the pills after Combeferre had found Grantaire overdosing on sleeping pills in the middle of the night. He stuck his fingers down his friends throat before carting him off to the hospital to get his stomach pumped. Grantaire begged Combeferre not to say anything once he came round. Combeferre promised.  


Grantaire was sitting on his bed drawing when there was a light knock on his door.  


"Yeah?"  


The door opened and Combeferre stood in the doorway and looked Grantaire over for a moment before sighing quietly. "When was the last time you slept?" he asked. Grantaire shrugged.  


"I got a few hours in last night," he answered, pointedly not looking at Combeferre.  


"That's a lie. Have you eaten?" Another shrug.  


"Not since Thursday," Grantaire said.  


"Grantaire, it's Sunday. You need to eat. Come to the cafe with me. It would be good for you to get out of the house for a while," Combeferre offered.  


"I do get out of the house," Grantaire countered as he made more marks in his sketchbook.  


"Stepping outside for a cigarette doesn't count, R. Come on, everyone misses you. I already told them you were coming today. Take a shower and let's go," Combeferre said, leaving no room for argument as he shut the door behind him. Grantaire sighed and slid off of his bed.  


Combeferre had taken it upon himself to get Grantaire moved in with him after the incident with the sleeping pills. Someone needed to look after him if he was going to continue his habits.  
Once Grantaire was showered and in fresh clothes, he swallowed down a few Xanax, ignoring the look on Combeferre's face as he did so. Then the pair were on their way. He lit up a cigarette, offering it to Combeferre as they walked. Combeferre took it and Grantaire lit another for himself. Grantaire knew what was coming in the silence between them.  


"I think you should slow down on the pills, R. The drinking, too," Combeferre said.  


"In all due respect, Ferre, I think you should mind your own business on that front," Grantaire said after a long drag off the cigarette.  


"I'm just worried. We all are," Combeferre said.  


"There's nothing to be worried about, Ferre. It's fine," he said, picking up his pace. The quicker they got to the cafe, the sooner Grantaire could get away from the situation. Grantaire walked into the cafe, shortly followed by Combeferre. The former made straight for the bar to order a drink while the latter joined his friends in the corner.  


"How has he been?" Joly asked quietly.  


"He's been better. I just wish he cared about himself more," Combeferre answered, rubbing the back of his neck. Before anyone could say anything else on the matter, Grantaire approached and Combeferre found himself sighing in exasperation.  


"Beer isn't food, R. Sit down, talk. I'm getting you something to eat," Combeferre said lowly. Grantaire rolled his eyes and sat down, looking around the group.  


"It's been a few days, R. What've you been up to?" Bahorel said.  


"Not much. Been working on some things. I did a project with ink and watercolor yesterday, it came out alright," Grantaire said, taking a large swallow of beer.  


"Speaking of, I've been meaning to ask you a favor," Enjolras chimed in, looking up from his papers. Grantaire's brows rose in exaggerated surprise.  


"Our fearless leader, asking me a favor? My goodness, what could our own Apollo possibly need from me? Gentlemen, I do believe this is the day hell has frozen over," he exclaimed loudly. Enjolras did his level best not to glare at him, but he failed.  


"Grantaire, let's not start this quite so soon. Could you please just cooperate for once?" Enjolras snapped, stacking his papers roughly on the tabletop. Grantaire was about to retort, but suddenly a plate was set down noisily in front of him. Combeferre was looking between him and Enjolras with a raised brow.  


"Eat your food. You'd better finish it. And at least listen to what E has to say," Combeferre chastised, ruffling his friends hair.  


"Whatever you say, mother dear," he said with a wink as he picked up the sandwich and turned his attention back to Enjolras. "What is it you'd like me to do?" he asked around a small mouthful.  


"Some banners and pamphlets need to be designed. You're the best artist out of all of us. I've got a basic idea laid out for it if you'd like to go over it," Enjolras explained, looking at his stack of papers. Grantaire agreed and Enjolras moved to sit next to him. The pair were bent over the papers for the next hour and a half.  


Grantaire was sketching possibility after possibility as they went over the ideas. After all was said and done, Grantaire slid the sketchbook closer to Enjolras.  


"This is what I've got so far. It's not much but take your pick, and I'll start from there," Grantaire said.  


"I like this one. It's sharp. Bold enough to get our point across," Enjolras said, pointing at one of the sketches.  


Actually being civil, even friendly, with Enjolras threw Grantaire off. It was his default setting to fight with and tease the man relentlessly. It was better than this. This warmth currently sitting in his belly, warmth not caused by alcohol. He finished off the remainder of his beer and managed to slip out of the back of the Café Musain without being noticed. His phone was in his hands instantly.  


_What can I get from you today? -R_  


_How were you paying?_  


_You know damn well how I'm paying. Wouldn't have texted you otherwise._  


_Always so charming, love. Come by mine._  


The sun was just starting to set as Grantaire stood on the doorstep waiting to be let inside. "You look rough. It's gonna be one of those nights then?" the man that answered the door asked with a smirk on his face.  


"Shut up, Anton," Grantaire grumbled as he stepped inside. As soon as the door was shut, Anton pressed himself up against the smaller mans back, hands snaking around his hips.  


"I'm gonna fuck that little glare right off your pretty little face," the man growled into Grantaire's neck. "Fuck you so hard you'll forget your own name."  


"What a way with words. I'm holding you to that," Grantaire said, his breathing already growing ragged as Anton palmed him through his jeans.  


When Grantaire woke up, he was sore. He could feel the bruises forming on his body already. His throat hurt. He rubbed his neck gently, wincing slightly at the tender feeling. Anton had choked him toward the end. He sat up and looked around.  


"What time is it?" he asked, rough voiced, when he spotted Anton.  


"Four thirty. Morning. What do you want in your goody bag?" Anton answered. Grantaire sighed and started the search for his clothes.  


"Same as usual. You know what I like," he said, pulling his underwear on.  


"Done. I'm gonna throw in a little something extra since you were so good for me." Grantaire rolled his eyes and scoffed, zipping up his pants. "It'll put you right to sleep. God knows you could use it."  


"And what would that be?" Grantaire asked as he scrolled through his phone. Several texts and a few missed calls from Combeferre. Several more from the rest of the group. Eponine, too.  


"Heroin," Anton answered with a devilish smile. Grantaire looked up in surprise.  


"That's a bit much, don't you think?" he asked uncertainly. Anton rolled his eyes.  


"You've done it before, Taire. You liked it. It's a gift, just take it," the man said, handing the bag over to Grantaire. He put the bag in his backpack. "I'll walk you out," Anton said. Once at the door, Anton turned Grantaire to face him and placed a sloppy, wet kiss to his lips. "See me soon," he said.  


"Don't count on it," Grantaire said, smirking at the man. It came out as more of a grimace.  


He made it home just after five thirty. He tried to be quiet walking inside so he didn't wake up Combeferre, but the caution was unneeded. Combeferre was already awake, and worried out of his mind.  


"God dammit, Grantaire, what the _hell_ were you thinking? You disappear from the café without saying anything. Ignore everyone's calls, our texts. I was worried sick, you ass. Why do you insist on doing this to me?" Combeferre rambled before the door was even shut. Grantaire stood silently by the door with his eyes down as he listened. Combeferre was in his space suddenly, doing exactly what Grantaire was hoping he wouldn't. His chin was lifted and Combeferre was quiet as he stared at the bruising on his neck.  


"Where were you?" he asked lowly, already knowing the answer. "Answer me."  


"I went to see Anton," Grantaire mumbled. Combeferre sighed heavily, looking up at the ceiling.  


"You're scaring me, R."  


"I'm sorry," Grantaire nearly whispered, looking over his friends shoulder.  


"No you're not," Combeferre said with a rueful laugh. "If you were sorry, you wouldn't keep doing this shit all the time."  


"Are you done shaming me?" Grantaire said stiffly, finally looking Combeferre straight in the eyes.  


"I'm not shaming you. I'm not. I'm just upset. I'm _terrified_ that one day, you're going to disappear and the next time I see you will be at your _funeral_. I can't bear the thought of that happening," his friend explained. "Go get some sleep. Please," he added, voice softer then, giving Grantaire's shoulder a light squeeze.  


He didn't sleep.


	2. Deux.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of sad baby bear Grantaire. Mama bear Enjolras. Mama bear Combeferre. A lot of ow.

Grantaire was basically on house arrest for the next two days. In those two days he was treated much like a child. Combeferre made him eat, and hovered over him until satisfied that he had eaten enough. They'd nearly gotten into a fist fight over Grantaire's drugs. He had enough sense to hide them, and wouldn't tell Combeferre where when he was tearing up his room.  


"Bahorel is having a party. We're going. Everyone wants to know you're safe. You better behave," Combeferre said on the third day as Grantaire sat outside with his coffee and a cigarette.  


"I don't want to go," Grantaire argued weakly. He was embarrassed at the thought of having to show his face after disappearing like he did. He was embarrassed that they would see the bruises on his neck. He was embarrassed about the looks of pity they would give him. The disappointment. The _shame_. He couldn't deal with it. He was a fuck up, he knew it. He just didn't want to see it in his friends faces.  


But he went anyway, like the fucking mental masochist he seemed to be. Had a few too many pills before arriving. It wasn't enough, so as always, he drank. And he was a mess. And it was perfect. Being able to laugh when he saw the looks. He could only laugh to keep from crying.  


He had stepped out back for a cigarette, though he could barely walk anymore. And that was how he ended up in the grass, on the flat of his back, staring up at the stars in the sky. Even they were taunting him. So he laughed and ignored the fact his eyes were watering.  


"Fuck you, stars," he slurred, flicking cigarette ash at them as an insult. He only succeeded in getting the ash all over his chest.  


"Why on _earth_ are you cursing at the stars?" an all too familiar voice questioned. Grantaire's head lolled in the direction of the voice. Enjolras stood above him. Then he sat down in the grass.  


"Oh, Apollo. If the stars were judging _you_ , then you would know," Grantaire answered. "I'd like to be a star," he added, the dopey smile on his face fading as he looked back up at the sky.  


"And why is that?" Enjolras asked.  


"People look up to stars. Admire them. They put their beliefs in them. Even when the stars have exploded, people still _love_ them. The mess they make is still beautiful," he explained without thinking. Enjolras was quiet.  


"I almost forgot how poetic you are sometimes," he finally said, half to himself. "What are you doing just lying in the grass anyway?" He asked. Grantaire shrugged. Maybe.  


"I seem to have lost the ability to keep myself upright. I believe I have too much in my system to function properly," he said. "If we're currently asking questions, here's one for you. What are you doing?"  


"Talking with you," Enjolras answered cheekily.  


"Yes, thank you smartass. But this seems to be a voluntary conversation. In my experience, that doesn't happen," Grantaire said, furrowing his brow.  


"Well it's happening now. Don't question it," Enjolras said. Grantaire was about to speak again, but was stopped.  


"I may be sick," he croaked suddenly. Enjolras was moving in an instant, pulling Grantaire up quickly and turning him to the side. Grantaire, true to his word, was sick in the grass as Enjolras rubbed a comforting circle on his back. When he was finished, Enjolras started moving.  


"Come on. Let's get up. It's time for you to go to sleep," he said softly. Grantaire only nodded in response and did his best to stand with Enjolras' help. He heard Enjolras explaining to Bahorel and Combeferre what was going on, but he never heard the responses.  


Once in the bed, he heard Enjolras shuffling around, but it was much too dark to see anything. He realized, though, that Enjolras had pulled up a chair by the bed and sat down. Grantaire was barely clinging to consciousness at that point.  


"I'm such a fucking mess, E," he said. He would never admit it came out on a sudden sob. There was a hand on his forehead, brushing back his hair at that confession.  


"No. You're just lost. Go to sleep, R," Enjolras said softly. So he did.  


It was early when Grantaire woke up. He could still feel the effects of alcohol in his system, and a massive headache coming on. And, most unfortunately, another bout of overwhelming nausea. He fell off the bed in a clumsy attempt to get up, hitting his head on an end table. He heard someone stir in surprise behind him, but didn't have time to see who it was as he stumbled toward the door.  


He made it to the toilet just in time. As he clung desperately to the edges of the toilet bowl, someone came into the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub, rubbing his back as he continued violently vomiting.  


Once his stomach was as empty as it was going to get, he suffered a few dry heaves before he was left shaking and panting over the toilet.  


"Better?" Enjolras' voice sounded, startling Grantaire. Enjolras was the last person he would expect to be sitting in the bathroom with him like this. And then the previous nights events returned to him.  


"Sorry," Grantaire muttered hoarsely, glancing up at the other man.  


"Don't be," Enjolras said softly, before standing up. He closed the lid and flushed the toilet before hoisting Grantaire's weak frame off the floor and sitting him down on the lid. Grantaire watched as Enjolras moved around. He ran cold water over a washcloth and wrung it out a bit before turning back to Grantaire. He took Grantaire's chin between his fingers and, with a tissue, wiped at his chin and the sides of his mouth. He then took the cloth and wiped up the blood from the new cut on his forehead before patting the cloth over the rest of his face and along the sides of his neck, cooling him off.  


"I finished your drawings," Grantaire said, for lack of anything better to break the silence. Enjolras grinned smally.  


"That was fast," he said. Grantaire shrugged.  


"Now or never kind of thing. It's not like I had anything better to do on house arrest," he said. His face still hadn't lost the confusion and wariness. Enjolras sighed at the expression.  


"Relax, R. Believe it or not, I'm not always angry," Enjolras said. Grantaire couldn't think of anything to say through the hammering in his head. "Let's get you to your own bed. Combeferre had to leave early for class, I told him I would get you home."  


Grantaire surprisingly fell right back to sleep once he was home. Slept through the majority of the day. But the rest couldn't last. He was bombarded by his own self loathing almost as soon as he woke up, and sat for the next hour with a hand fisted in his hair, on the verge of an anxiety attack. He was vaguely aware of someone calling his name, but he completely dismissed it.  


"R? You okay?" Combeferre tried again, pushing open his friends bedroom door. He was surprised by the sheer amount of emotion actually showing on Grantaire's face. He approached his friend and rested a hand on his shoulder. Grantaire flinched away at the touch and Combeferre withdrew his hand immediately.  


"What's wrong?" He asked, growing more worried.  


"It's fine. I'm fine. Go away," Grantaire stammered, voice shaking.  


"I'm not going anywhere," Combeferre said sternly.  


"I can't deal with this, Ferre. I can't deal with any of it," Grantaire blurted. The words started tumbling out of his mouth without his permission, and Combeferre was quiet. As much as it hurt him to watch, it was about time Grantaire let it out.  


"I hate myself, I hate what I've become. I don't know why any of you put up with me, I'm never fucking sober and you all hate it. I see it in your faces. I'm sick of the pity, I'm sick of the disappointment. I'm sick of feeling. No matter how much I drink, no matter how many pills I take, none of it changes the fact that I _feel_. It's crushing me, Ferre. It's crushing me and it hurts too much, and I'm sick of loving _so much_ and knowing I can't be loved in return. You should have just let me die that day, it would have been a lot better for everyone if I just ceased to exist. It's all suffocating me," he babbled, growing impossibly more panicked as he spoke. It was quite literally suffocating him. As soon as he paused, he choked on a breath and couldn't seem to get it back. Combeferre was sitting in front of him suddenly, hands cupping his tear stained face.  


"Breathe, Grantaire. Deep breaths, come on," he said, keeping his voice calm and quiet.  


"I can't," Grantaire choked, holding onto Combeferre's wrists tightly.  


"Yes you can, R. Just breathe with me," Combeferre said. Grantaire tried doing as Combeferre did, and his breathing eventually started evening out. Combeferre lifted one hand, running it through his friends dark, curly locks in a comforting gesture.  


"You _are_ loved, R. You need to understand that," he started. "You have so much to offer. You're incredibly talented. You're more talented than anyone I've ever met. You are so kind, and so loving, it puts all of us to shame. You're _brilliant_. You've got a way with words that sends shivers down even Jehan's spine. You have so much potential, and I would hate to see it go to waste. I could brag about you all day, I really could. I don't care what you grew up hearing. Your parents were assholes and liars. I desperately want you to realize how wonderful you are. I want to drill it into your thick fucking skull. Because you are wonderful. You're just lost. You don't know how many people you would be hurting if you had died. You have more of an effect on us all than you think, Grantaire. It hurts to see you doing this to yourself. You are not a bad person. You're good," he explained passionately, never ceasing the repetitive stroking. He rested his hand on the back of Grantaire's neck and pressed their foreheads together. " _You are good_ ," he repeated, trying to burn the information into his friends mind.  


"I want to believe you," Grantaire whispered. Combeferre grinned sadly. He could see it in Grantaire's face. He wanted to believe the words. But he just couldn't.  


"I know you do," Combeferre said. Grantaire dropped his head onto his friends shoulder, and Combeferre wrapped him up in a tight embrace. They sat like that for a while, Combeferre wishing he could just protect Grantaire from all the bad things in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't want to put Grantaire through this. But. For the sake of Grantaire, it must be so.


	3. Trois.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It definitely wasn't a date. Enjolras would keep telling himself that later when he couldn't get that stupid, fucking adorable, high pitched laugh in the sunset out of his mind.

"I thought R was supposed to be coming?" Joly asked at the next Les Amis meeting when Combeferre showed up unaccompanied by the shorter man in question.  


"He hasn't been feeling well," Combeferre said tightly. Enjolras could see the stress in his face.  


"He needs help, Ferre. Professional help," Enjolras said.  


"God knows I've tried. I'd have forced him into it by now if I could," Combeferre said with a heavy sigh. "I know we're in a meeting, E, but could I talk to you privately for a minute?"  


The two excused themselves outside. "What is it?" Enjolras asked.  


"I don't want to freak you out or anything, but I've noticed something about Grantaire. Whenever you two aren't fighting, when you're actually nice to him, he comes home and about destroys himself. I don't know why, I haven't asked why it's only you," Combeferre explained. Enjolras furrowed his brows. "When you worked on the banners with him, and he disappeared, he came back at five thirty in the morning with those bruises on his neck. Ever since the party, he's been a mess. I think you should talk to him."  


"Why would you suggest _I_ talk to him if I'm making him worse than he already is?" Enjolras questioned, brows furrowing even more. He was almost glaring.  


"I think you might be able to break a barrier that I can't. Just, if you do, be easy on him. Try not to get too frustrated. You know he'll try and push your buttons," Combeferre said.  


"I'll see what I can do," Enjolras said after a moment of contemplation. "Let's get inside, we've got a lot to go over today."  


A few days later, Grantaire was half reading a book in a bundle of blankets, half eyeing the bag of pills at the foot of his bed. It wasn't the pills he was considering. His phone vibrated and his stomach flipped when he saw who the message was from.  


_What are your plans for today? -E_   


_Nothing particularly healthy._   


_Well before you do that, I have a proposal._   


_Did you run out of causes to fight? Or did you brutally murder your friends. I'm betting on murder. I would prefer death by stoning, if you're planning on killing me next._   


_None of the above, smartass. I was only wondering if you'd like to hang out for a while._   


Grantaire's brows furrowed. _You might want to see a doctor. Something tells me you're unwell._  


_Do you want to hang out or not?_ Grantaire could almost hear the irritation in that text. _Either way, I'll be there in ten minutes. Be ready._  


Grantaire wasn't ready by the time Enjolras was knocking on the door. He was still in his pajamas, his hair was a mess, and probably smelled like the whiskey he had spilled on himself the previous night.  


"You're _not_ leaving this house like that," Enjolras snipped as soon as the door opened. He glared his way inside.  


"You make a girl feel unwanted," Grantaire said, the grin on his face contradicting the faux hurt in his voice. He pushed himself lazily off of the door frame, and followed Enjolras as he went toward the bathroom. The blonde turned on the shower and stepped out of the bathroom, prodding Grantaire inside.  


"Take a shower. Get dressed. Leave your pills alone. I'll be out here," Enjolras said sternly, making his way back to the front room. Half an hour later, Grantaire emerged, clean and dressed, and surprisingly sober looking.  


"Is this proper enough, your majesty?" he asked. Old green sweater, black jeans with a hole in the knee. Worn out fucking moccasins. Enjolras chose to ignore the moccasins. Green was a good color on him.  


"Much better. And your pills?" Enjolras asked pointedly.  


"I had some Valium earlier this morning, and that's it so far. They'll be left alone, I swear," R answered, lifting his hands in defense.  


"Then let's go."  


The pair walked down the street, quietly for a bit. "Where exactly are you whisking me off to?" Grantaire mumbled around a cigarette as he lit it.  


"First, to get some lunch. You need to eat, you've been losing weight," Enjolras said.  


"I don't have the money for food, my dear Apollo. I spent what I had on far less nutritious things," Grantaire said in a rather stately tone of voice.  


"Well it's good for you that you're not paying, isn't it?" Enjolras said. "Don't fight about it, either. It's my treat," he interrupted before Grantaire could argue against it. Grantaire said nothing. Enjolras led him to a restaurant close to the café. He let him have a beer with his pasta. It was only fair since he had one of his own.  


"Did no one ever teach you the proper way to eat?" Enjolras asked as he watched the childish way Grantaire slurped up almost too big of mouthfuls.  


"Accept it. It's not gonna change," he answered once he'd swallowed most of the bite. Enjolras responded with a huff of laughter. As much as it should have bothered him, it didn't. It was rather endearing, and it was just... It was just Grantaire.  


Once they left the restaurant, Enjolras turned to Grantaire. "Take me somewhere you like to go," he said. Grantaire definitely didn't trust that smile.  


"What?" Grantaire asked dumbly.  


"You heard me right. You've seen what inspires me. I don't know much about you, R. I know you like art. That's it. You've seen mostly everything that I love, I want to see more of what you love," he said.  


"Why?" Grantaire said, blue eyes glaring suspiciously. There were no witty retorts, or sarcastic comments. Not even a shit eating grin. Just a boy completely confused and suddenly very nervous.  


"Because there's more to you than just cynicism. And I want to see it. So show me what you're truly passionate about," Enjolras said.  


"Um. Okay," R said. He shuffled quietly along the sidewalk with Enjolras by his side. As they approached a bar, of all things, Enjolras grew very frustrated. Grantaire stopped walking and turned to him suddenly.  


"Just- it's not what it looks like. Don't start yelling yet," he stammered quietly, before walking uncertainly toward the door.  


It was very nice inside. Dimly lit, quiet and clean. There was a warmth in the air that felt very comfortable. Grantaire nodded at the bartender and kept walking. "Sit down somewhere. Get a drink. Or something," he said over his shoulder. Enjolras was just confused at this point. He didn't sit.  


Grantaire shuffled toward a darker corner, where Enjolras finally noticed the piano. Grantaire took a seat at the bench, and heaved a large sigh before popping his knuckles and settling his hands over the black and white keys.  


The minute he started playing, Enjolras was dumbstruck. It was a very melancholy song, but beautiful all the same. Enjolras didn't know much of anything about music, but he highly doubted anyone could deliver the emotion in the music quite like Grantaire did. Enjolras had to sit, then, just from the surprise alone. When the song ended, the bartender spoke.  


"That boy is one of the best pianists I've ever had in here. Comes here a lot, just to play. Called him up here a few times for some special events. He's got a gift."  


"He does, doesn't he," Enjolras agreed before Grantaire started up another song. It was sad, like the last, but there was hope in it as well. Subtle hope, but blinding all the same. It occurred to Enjolras that this must be how Grantaire expressed emotion. He never did it with words. He did it with his hands.  


When Grantaire was finished, he stood up and made his way back to the bar where Enjolras sat. "I care about music," he mumbled.  


"Really?" Enjolras started, sarcasm etched into his voice. "I couldn't tell. It wasn't _glaringly obvious_ enough."  


He was grinning when Grantaire looked at him. A sheepish grin grew on Grantaire's lips. "Well you saw it. Let's go," he muttered, waving at the bartender and shuffling out the door.  


"Where did you learn to play like that?" Enjolras asked once they were outside. Grantaire shrugged.  


"When I was little, the lady next door had a piano. She was this little, wobbly old thing. Things at home weren't always rainbows and butterflies, so she would let me go over. She had this piano probably as old as she was. As broken and useless as it looked, the sound that came out of it was perfect. And she would play for me. She wasn't a very good pianist, and she knew it, but it never stopped her. It made her happy. I just picked it up on the way. After she died, she made sure the piano was mine. I played it while I could," he explained.  


"What do you mean, while you could?" Enjolras asked. Grantaire wouldn't look at him, but Enjolras could see the pain in his face.  


"You don't want to hear every bit and piece of my childhood, E. It's not all that exciting," he said, a sudden weakness snaking its way into Grantaire's voice.  


"I just want to understand," Enjolras said. Grantaire looked up at him, a look on his face that Enjolras couldn't figure out for the life of him. The only thing he could explain it as was fear, and even that wasn't right.  


"I came home from school one day and it was at the end of the driveway, burnt to shit," Grantaire said flatly, after hesitating for a long moment. "Don't... don't make me talk about my family, Enjolras. I'm far too sober for that," he added, his face pleading.  


"Okay. I won't ask. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry," Enjolras said softly. Grantaire mumbled a weak 'thank you' as he looked back at the ground.  


"So what's next? Show me something else you love," Enjolras said, changing the subject. Grantaire took a moment to compose himself, and visibly weighed his options before a grin spread across his face. Everything about him just lit up.  


"Look around you," he said, his eyes suddenly bright and full of life. Enjolras did, and R let out a giggle that the blonde definitely did not find adorable. "Don't just look. See," he added. Enjolras was confused.  


And that was how Grantaire ended up parading Enjolras as far as their feet would carry them, explaining what he saw in Paris with a fervor Enjolras had never heard from him before. The dark haired young man showed him little nooks and crannies of Paris that Enjolras never would have seen in that light. Where Enjolras was passionate about his people, Grantaire was passionate about his surroundings. There was beauty in so many things, so many areas. Grantaire gave life to Paris with his words. As he showed Enjolras what he saw, Enjolras was almost envious. It must have been an amazing thing to see France the way Grantaire did. He painted it, plain and simple. It was art.  


They were eating ice cream on a park bench, despite the already chilly weather. It was getting close to evening time, and the sky was painted in oranges, pinks, purples, and blues. Grantaire was staring up at the sky, his excitement from the last few hours still simmering away behind his eyes.  


"I like seeing you this way, R," Enjolras said. It was time to talk to him like Combeferre asked. Grantaire looked from the sky to Enjolras, a questioning look on his face as he took another mouthful of ice cream. "Sober. It's nice."  


"Don't count on it lasting," Grantaire shrugged. "Just because I'm perfectly content right now, doesn't mean it's my default setting. I've tried the sober thing. Sobriety and I don't get along," he said.  


"I have no power to stop you from doing whatever you do. You know that. Just try to understand this from my perspective. Without being snarky," Enjolras said. Grantaire was quiet, trying to suppress his sudden irritation. "Are you listening?"  


"Yes, Captain."  


"Whenever you show up drunk off your ass to a meeting, when I see you when you've taken too many pills, when I seen you on both. I don't see just a drunkard or a junkie-"  


"Then why is that what you always call me?" Grantaire interrupted. He didn't even try to mask the hurt.  


"Because I don't have very healthy anger management skills. I won't deny I've said anything hurtful. And it was deliberate. I've just gotten so offended and pissed at you for showing up and causing a scene when I'm in the middle of something important. The only way to shut you up was to say things I never should have said. I won't ask forgiveness. And I wouldn't even accept it.  


"But that's not who I think you are. Not really. I've said it before, you're just lost. And you do need help. Don't argue with me about it, you know it's true. Combeferre is closer to you than any of the rest of us are, but even he can only do so much. The other night, you said you would like to be a star. You've proven it to me today. You are a star. If you could just find your way past the damn clouds you're always hiding behind, people would see just how bright you can shine," Enjolras explained.  


Grantaire was angry. He didn't need Enjolras of all people getting at him about his habits. But he couldn't keep from snorting into his bowl of ice cream at the last part.  


"My fucking god, that was the cheesiest ending to any speech I've ever heard," Grantaire exclaimed on a laugh. He had the most innocent laugh. And his nose crinkled just so as he continued laughing, and Enjolras just needed to stop his thoughts right there. Thankfully, his own laughter interrupted, and the two were left in a giggling mess, eyes watering and cheeks sore.  
"Fuck off, R, you started it," Enjolras defended weakly between laughs. Grantaire refused to stop his teasing the rest of the way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three is a good number right? Let's let chapther three end well.


	4. Quatre.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire is an emotional roller coaster.

Along with the colder weather came Grantaire's annual sickness. Every year for as long as he could remember, once the weather got cold, his immune system decided to turn against him. He was asleep at home this particular afternoon, knocked out by a mixture of medicine and alcohol. Combeferre made sure he would be okay on his own for a few hours while he was in class and meeting at the café.

After the meeting, Combeferre took his chance in Grantaire's absence to speak. "Grantaire's birthday is coming up. I kind of wanted to talk to you all about that," he said, mostly looking toward Enjolras.  


"I've got soup for him," Joly exclaimed on the mention of the sick boy. "And tea."  


"I'll make sure to let him know it's from you," Combeferre said with a grin. "But I've been thinking. I want us to do something for Grantaire this year."  


"As long as I've known him, he hasn't celebrated his birthday. What makes you think he'd even want to do anything?" Bossuet questioned. Combeferre shrugged.  


"I just think it would be nice. He deserves something nice. We all fail to notice that sometimes," he said, a touch of sadness to his voice.  


"I think it's a good idea," Enjolras chimed in, earning one or two raised brows. "What were you thinking of doing, Ferre?" he continued, ignoring the looks.  


Grantaire was lying on the couch when Combeferre returned, curled up into a tight little ball. He had the comforter from his bed wrapped around him snugly. All Combeferre could see of him was his messy mop of hair, his eyes, and his nose, red from irritation. Grantaire glared at him sleepily, but made no move to leave the warmth of his blanket.  


"You're late," he muttered, hoarse voice muffled by the blanket. Combeferre couldn't help but smile at his sick friend. He was a baby when he was sick.  


"I've got some soup and some tea for you. From Joly," Combeferre said, ignoring the statement.  


"It had better be chicken noodle," Grantaire grumbled, digging his phone out from the depths of his blanket to send Joly a thank you text. And a promise to spread his sickness on to him. Joly didn't find it very funny.  


"It is chicken noodle," Combeferre called from the kitchen. "I'm going to make some for you. Once you're done, you're getting a cup of tea, and then we'll watch a movie. Sound good?"  


"It would sound a lot better if you weren't screaming, asshole," Grantaire groaned in response, ignoring the chuckle he earned as he rolled over and stuck his face into the couch cushions. Combeferre had a fleeting thought of what it would be like for Enjolras to deal with a sick Grantaire. He smiled to himself.  


Once he got Grantaire to sit up straight- _"Fucking give me a straw, then. I don't want to get up."_ \- he noticed the bottle of whiskey on the table. He grabbed it before Grantaire could. Grantaire stared at him in annoyance.  


"Whiskey isn't going to get you any better, any faster. Eat your soup," Combeferre chided as if speaking to a child.  


"But it's warm."  


"Soup. _Now_."  


Grantaire fell asleep during the movie, and Combeferre smiled at his tiny little snores.  


Grantaire was yet again baffled when Enjolras toted him around Paris for the second time. He was on the tail end of being sick, and all that remained was a stuffy nose and a headache. "Remind me again why you absolutely _needed_ me to go grocery shopping with you?" Grantaire whined as he trudged along behind Enjolras.  


"I didn't want to go alone, is that such a crime?" Enjolras shrugged.  


"And out of everyone else you know, you thought _I_ would be the most equipped to accompany you? My dear Apollo, I believe I'm questioning your judgement for the first time," Grantaire said.  


"I told you it wouldn't be exciting. You didn't have to come," Enjolras said, smirking to himself.  


"Well if I had known you were just going to drag me around to buy the rabbit food you call sustenance, I would have stayed home to be sick by myself. You made it seem much more important than that over text," Grantaire huffed. He wasn't actually all that irritated. This was his entertainment.  


"Shut up, R, you're hardly even sick anymore," Enjolras said with a roll of his eyes.  


"Try telling that to my head," Grantaire muttered. "Besides, I'm a baby when it comes to being sick. Just ask Ferre," he added as if it were something to be proud of.  


The pair took a cab back to Enjolras' flat, to avoid letting the perishable foods go bad, and Grantaire helped him lug the groceries inside. It was a nice flat, mostly paid for by Enjolras' parents. The furniture was decent, and everything was clean, aside from the clutter of textbooks and other things Enjolras found important scattered about. Grantaire was part of the move in crew, and that was the only time he had seen the inside of the flat.  


"Oh, I'm going with you back to your place if that's alright with you. I left some things with Combeferre that I need back," Enjolras said once they finished putting everything away. There was a lot of bickering during that process. Grantaire was putting things in the wrong places, feigning innocence. His nearly constant shit eating grin told Enjolras everything he needed to know. He was messing up the order on purpose, the prick.  


"If that's your request to walk me home, you could have done so much better. Nevertheless, I'm flattered," Grantaire said, winking teasingly at the blonde.  


"You're an idiot," Enjolras said, shaking his head. "Let's go before you mess up the rest of my flat."  


The evening was upon them as they headed toward Combeferre's little house. A wolfish grin spread across Grantaire's lips and he gestured toward the sky with a graceful hand. "Look. The sun is setting and everything. What a romantic. You can hold my hand as we walk into the horizon if you'd like, _mon chéri_ ," he said, dancing out of the way of Enjolras reach with a high pitched, ( _stupidly adorable_ ) laugh as the blonde went to punch him in the shoulder.  


When they reached the house, Grantaire unlocked the door and walked inside, only to stop in the doorway. He looked over his shoulder at Enjolras, eyebrows furrowed.  


"Since when are there Les Amis meetings at Combeferre's house?" he asked, confused. Enjolras smiled and placed a hand on his back, giving him a soft push inside.  


"There aren't. There's an occasional birthday party though," he said, his smile growing. Grantaire took his eyes off of Enjolras and looked back into the living room where everyone he cared about sat. It was then that he saw a poorly made _Happy Birthday, Grantaire!_ sign pinned to the wall.  


"Happy birthday!" A chorus of voices shouted all at once, and Grantaire stumbled back a bit in surprise, only to be pushed gently forward again by Enjolras. He was dumbstruck. He looked, wide eyed, from the group to Enjolras, eyes searching for an explanation when he couldn't get the words out.  


"Happy birthday, R," Enjolras said softly. Grantaire couldn't do much more than stare for a moment. He stared at Enjolras, and around the room again. Everyone was smiling at him. Not out of pity. Not because he did something funny. They were excited. They were excited for Grantaire's existence.  


A strange sort of smile spread across his lips at that, and he dipped his head for a moment, laughing silently to himself. When he looked back up, his eyes were close to spilling over. It was the first time he had really ever felt worth anything. He clung desperately to the feeling, locking it away somewhere deep in his mind. There was no telling when it was going to end.  


"Thank you, everyone. Really," he said on a shaky laugh, sniffling as he did so and quickly rubbing at his eyes. Combeferre was standing in front of him suddenly, strapping a green party hat to his head.  


"You can't just stand here sniveling all night. This is your birthday party," he said fondly.  


"Fuck off, Ferre, I'll snivel if I want to," Grantaire answered, composing himself quickly. With encouragement, he ventured further into the room to celebrate with the others. There was an unfamiliar face in the house that Grantaire recognized immediately, regardless of never having seen the girl before. The minute he could get her alone, he took his chance.  


"You must be Cosette," he said, plopping himself down on the couch with no amount of grace next to the blonde girl, sure to keep his bottle of wine steady. It was a gift from Eponine. She smiled at him.  


"I am. I've heard a lot about you," she said. Her voice was as sweet as he'd imagined.  


"That's unfortunate. Marius hasn't stopped talking about you since he met you. The way he describes you, I was expecting flowers to fall off of you everywhere you went," he said.  


"Oh really? I'm sorry to disappoint you. My flowers won't bloom again until spring," she joked. "I have a gift for you. Marius thought you might like it. I think it would have a better home with you, rather than sitting in my closet collecting dust. Stay right here, I'll be right back," she added, standing up.  


She returned with a box, and set it in Grantaire's lap, easing the wine bottle gently from his fingers so he could open it. She took her place back at his side. He was a little awestruck at the present. He lifted the old Polaroid camera out and looked at her with wide eyes.  


"This is too much to ask from someone I don't even know," he said.  


"It's a good thing you didn't ask for it then, isn't it? Don't bother trying to give it back. It's a gift. You're allowed to have gifts," she said with a soft smile. With eyes as big and blue as hers, he wasn't surprised that she could see right through him.  


He was quiet for a moment, a fond grin spreading across his lips. "Be careful not to trip on your kindness. I think you might need some spare boxes to put it all in," he said. She laughed lightly. His soft grin turned suddenly mischievous and he snapped a picture. "Marius! I have something for you!" he called out loudly, getting up and running to give the developing picture to Marius. Cosette chased after him, protesting the release of the picture. Grantaire and Cosette became fast friends.  


His peace of mind couldn't last, of course. How could it? Late into the party, when mostly everyone was good and truly drunk, Grantaire was standing out front smoking, listening to the muffled laughter and happiness from inside. Halfway through his second cigarette, the front door opened.  


"You shouldn't be left alone to think," Enjolras said, a slight slur to his words.  


"And why is that?" Grantaire questioned, turning to face the blonde. It was an odd sight, seeing him drunk.  


"Because. You get that look on your face," Enjolras said, waving his hand in the direction of Grantaire's face. "My question is, why is that look on your face right now? Your own birthday party isn't the place to do that."  


"Seeing as it's my birthday, I believe I can do whatever I want," Grantaire countered, smirking. A slight defensive tone wormed its way into his voice. Enjolras rolled his eyes and chose to ignore the statement.  


"I know I'm not Combeferre. And I know you don't owe me any explanations. I just want to understand you," Enjolras said. Grantaire laughed humorlessly.  


"Since when?" he asked, taking an angry swig from his nearly empty wine bottle. "Since when have you _cared_ about what's wrong with me? Why are all of you even here? I don't deserve this, I don't deserve presents and attention and all of you acting like I'm _worth_ anything."  


"Grantaire, _stop_ -"  


"No, Enjolras, I won't stop. Never in my life has anyone other than Combeferre showed me love, and even he's giving up on me now. This party, you dragging me around Paris. You couldn't actually have wanted to do any of this, none of you could," he growled, eyes welling with angry tears. "None of you could,"he repeated on a near whisper.  


"This is _exactly_ what I'm talking about. I want to know what happened to you to make you think _so fucking little_ of yourself," Enjolras started. He was drunk and angry and he couldn't help it. He wasn't angry at Grantaire, he was angry at whoever broke him down so badly. "You need help-"  


"Fuck you," Grantaire snapped, shutting Enjolras up. He stared hard at him for a moment, an almost animalistic pain overtaking him. " _Fuck you_ ," he repeated, louder, shoving Enjolras hard in the chest, dropping the bottle in the process. It shattered on the porch. "You don't get to ask me about my life. You don't get to tell me what I _need_. It isn't fair. All you've done as long as I've known you is completely dismiss me, why do you suddenly get to act like you fucking care? What makes it perfectly fucking fine for you to do this to me? It's killing me, Enjolras, it's fucking _killing me_."  


He was yelling at this point, and had pushed Enjolras into the railing on the other end of the porch. Enjolras didn't know how to react to such raw pain, so he just took it. Grantaire suddenly looked toward the house. When he looked back at Enjolras, there was a look of utter betrayal on his face.  


"It was Combeferre, wasn't it," he said smally. He shook his head and backed away from Enjolras before spinning around to leave the porch. He slipped on the mess of wine on the ground and fell down, cursing as the broken glass dug into his hands.  
Enjolras moved to help him up, but Grantaire shoved him away again with a sound somewhere between a sob and a growl, leaving a bloody handprint on his shirt. Enjolras lost his balance and fell, and Grantaire was already down the street by the time he got up. Enjolras cursed and stumbled back inside. He quite literally pulled Combeferre aside.  


"E? Why is there blood on your shirt? Where's Grantaire?" Ferre asked, his relaxed expressions immediately replaced with worry.  


"I was talking to him, and he got angry. He fell, cut himself on broken glass and took off. I don't know which way he went or anything," Enjolras explained quickly.  


"Fuck," Combeferre said, running a hand through his hair. "Oh _fuck_. This isn't good. He doesn't even have his fucking phone."  


Grantaire pounded on the door, ignoring the stinging in his hand. The knocking reopened several of the cuts. He kept knocking until the door opened, and didn't wait to be invited in.  


"What the fuck are you doing, Taire?" Anton questioned.  


"What's it look like I'm doing? I'm visiting you," Grantaire said quickly, surging up to Anton and kissing him hard enough to bruise, biting his bottom lip too hard before pulling away.  


"Fuck me," he growled. Anton smiled devilishly.  


"Gladly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. Shit.


	5. Cinq.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctors orders. Friends orders. Enjolras' orders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Change in warning tags, check it out before you read this chapter it's important**

"I need it," Grantaire said once he caught his breath. Anton knew.  


Time passed in a haze. Grantaire didn't care how long it had been. He couldn't care. He was high. Nothing else mattered. He didn't feel anything and it was enough. He was vaguely aware of the sex as the hours passed by. Sex with Anton. Sex with strangers. He was hardly there for it, so what did it matter? He had to have been staying at Anton's place for several days at that point. Being there meant not being sober. He didn't care what happened so long as he was high.  


When he eventually came to enough to form a coherent thought, he sat up and looked around. He was naked, he was sore. His hands still had blood caked onto them, but most of it had flaked off. He felt dirty.  


There were other people around him, in different states of undress. None of them were people he recognized, except for Anton who was too fucked up to realize that Grantaire was even moving. Grantaire stiffly got out of the bed and spent some time searching for his clothes. Once he was dressed, he quickly searched the room for any pills he could take with him before leaving.  


It was dark outside. It was quiet. He was in a terrible area, and an intuitive sense of dread was settling itself heavily in the fog of his brain. He was just hoping he didn't run into anyone as he walked. He wasn't prepared to defend himself out there in the state he was in. He went down an alley, a shortcut he knew that would get him out of that neighborhood, and immediately regretted it.  


_Just my fucking luck._

A pair of men, both bigger than he was, were in the alley. They reminded Grantaire of hyenas. Very twisted, very sick hyenas. He turned back as fast as his stiff legs would take him, but the damage was already done. He had already caught their attention, and his fate was decided for him.  


He woke up to a very bright light shining in his face. Everything hurt. A lot. He tried to move, tried to get away from the light, but he was in too much pain and all he could taste was blood. The light was talking to him as he squirmed on the asphalt, the rough surface irritating his bare skin. He couldn't understand anything. Though his vision was out of focus, and his brain was dangerously close to short-circuiting, he realized it was a police officer standing above him. He lost consciousness again.  


There was a different kind of light, though equally unwelcome, shining in his eyes when he woke up again, accompanied by a steady beeping noise and the quiet hum of people talking lowly. He was sore, but the pain in his body was numbed to a dull throbbing. He opened his eyes barely, and could just make out a familiar figure standing outside the open door, talking with a police officer. After a minute, the officer walked away and the other man entered the room, finding Grantaire awake. Grantaire tried to pull himself up.  


"No, R, you shouldn't move," Joly said quickly, pressing a hand gently to his chest to keep him down. His voice was shaking, but still soft and comforting. "You just got beaten half to death and there was some internal bleeding. And a few broken ribs. The less you move right now, the safer you'll be."  


"Who did you call?" Grantaire asked, voice almost completely worn out.  


"Um. Well, you were babbling about Enjolras when you first got here. He's down the hall. Nobody else knows you're here yet," Joly answered. He hesitated before speaking again. "He wants to see you. Should I send him in?"  


Grantaire shrugged as best he could. Joly remained still for a moment before leaving the room. The bed ridden boy turned his head toward the wall. He heard Enjolras enter the room, but refused to look. Enjolras sat in the chair by the bed and all was quiet for a bit.  


"You were missing for over a week," Enjolras said quietly. "We filed a missing persons report, as well as looking for you ourselves."  


Grantaire said nothing. Not that he really could anyway, seeing as his voice was mostly torn apart.  


"Joly and I already talked about it. We aren't going to tell anyone you're back until you're ready," Enjolras continued.  


Grantaire couldn't keep the angry, humiliated tears from forming as Enjolras spoke. He didn't want to be seen. He would rather be alone, bleeding to death in that alley.  


"Can I get you anything?" Enjolras asked. Still no answer. He sighed. "Please look at me," he whispered. Grantaire eventually turned his head. Enjolras looked worried. And tired. "I'm glad you're safe," he said, reaching over and gently wiping the tears off of Grantaire's bruised, swollen face. Grantaire would have laughed very, very bitterly, if he could.  


"Sorry I pushed you, Apollo," he settled on whispering. Enjolras smiled, small.  


"If anything, I pushed you," Enjolras said. "I'm the one who should be sorry, this is my fault."  


" _No_ ," Grantaire said, wincing in pain. It came out too sharp. Enjolras shushed him before he tried to continue.  


"Relax. We'll talk about it later. All of it. For now, you just rest. I'll be here," he said, brushing Grantaire's dark locks back off his forehead. Grantaire sighed in defeat.  


"Okay."  


Enjolras was still awake, still absently stroking the sleeping boys hair, when Joly came in later to check on Grantaire. "How is he doing?" Joly asked quietly.  


"He's been asleep," Enjolras said, stretching in his seat before standing up.  


"Did you see the marks on his arms?" Joly asked.  


"I did."  


"I had no idea it was this bad, E," Joly sighed.  


"I think that was the point," Enjolras said.  


"You should get some sleep. You look ready to fall over," Joly said after taking a moment to absorb Enjolras' answer. Enjolras smiled tightly.  


"I'm fine, Joly. I need to stay here, it's my fault he's here. I want to look after him," he explained. Enjolras had eventually dozed off in his seat after Joly went to continue his rounds. When he woke up, Grantaire was sitting up in the bed, sipping at a glass of water and staring at the wall.  


"You probably shouldn't be sitting up," Enjolras said as he sat up straight.  


"The ceiling got boring," Grantaire replied, voice still rough.  


"And the _wall_ is better?" Grantaire shrugged.  


"Well there isn't a light shining too bright on the wall. I picked the lesser of the two evils. Shouldn't you be in class?" he said.  


"I managed to work something out with my professors. So long as I get the work in on time, they're fine with my absence."  


"You don't have to stay here, I'm not dying," Grantaire said.  


"I know I don't have to. I want to," Enjolras replied. Grantaire nodded.  


"Just... Just don't ask, okay? The police already asked me enough while you were sleeping, I don't want to talk about it anymore," Grantaire said, bringing the straw back to his lips with a childish determination.  


"Then we won't talk about it," Enjolras said simply.  


"You can tell Ferre," Grantaire said after a while of silence. Enjolras looked up from his textbook. "He should know."  


Upon Combeferre's arrival at the hospital, Enjolras stepped outside of Grantaire's room to talk to him.  


"He's in pretty bad shape, Ferre. And don't let him get up, he's got broken ribs and he's already torn the stitches on an internal wound once," Enjolras said. Combeferre was staring anxiously at the door. "Tread lightly, for his sake."  


Combeferre nodded before opening the door and stepping inside. He had to refrain from reacting to the sight. Seeing Grantaire, bruised and pale, his face swollen, watching him struggle to breathe. It was almost too much.  


"Yell if you're going to yell. Don't just stare at me like I kicked your puppy," Grantaire said defensively, his voice still too rough.  


"I'm not going to yell," Combeferre said, sitting down in the chair. "I wish I knew how to help you, R. You're going to end up dead-"  


"That's not much of a travesty, in my opinion," Grantaire interrupted. His skin was already prickling with anger.  


"Stop. Just stop for a minute. You can't die and expect everyone else to just get on with their lives. That's not what would happen. If you were to die, you would take a part of all of us with you."  


"And you think _I_ can just get on with my life? It wasn't the week long fucking heroin binge that put me here, Ferre, that's for fucking sure," Grantaire shouted, ignoring the pain shooting through his entire abdomen. He vaguely heard Enjolras shouting for Joly on the other side of the door. "It's _my_ life, and after all the shit I've been through, I don't see the point in living anymore. I want to die, _why won't you just let me?_ " Grantaire was screaming the words at that point. He didn't know why he blew up so suddenly. He was just angry at the world, he supposed. That was when Joly and Enjolras burst through the door.  


Enjolras took Combeferre outside while Joly went to Grantaire. When Enjolras looked at Ferre, the man looked close to tears. "I didn't mean to do that, he just started yelling. I don't know what to do anymore, E," he said shakily.  


"Nothing's going to get worked out if both of you are freaking out. Just relax. I think he's just lashing out at you because you're the only one he can be that vulnerable around. Just be patient. Let him get it out of his system. We'll worry about getting him help when he's out of the hospital."  


Grantaire fought with Joly all morning the day he was released from the hospital. Joly ended up having to wrestle him into the wheelchair. Doctors orders.  


"This is fucking stupid, I can walk just fine," he grumbled as Joly pushed him toward the exit.  


"You haven't been on your feet since you got here. Just let me baby you," Joly replied in amusement.  


"Fuck off and take me home."  


As Joly pulled up to the little house, Grantaire shrank into himself. It didn't go unnoticed. "Do you want to stay with me and Bossuet for a while?" he asked quietly.  


"No," Grantaire said tightly. "No, it's fine. I've been a burden to you enough as it is," he said, softer, attempting to grin at the man. Joly returned the grin, a sad one, and placed a comforting hand on Grantaire's knee.  


"You're not a burden, R. We wouldn't mind at all. Just let me know if you need anything, okay?" he said. Grantaire nodded. Joly raised a brow. "Promise."  


"I promise," R said quietly. He placed a hesitant hand on Joly's shoulder and squeezed. "Thank you for taking care of me. And I can get to the door just fine, go get some sleep. I know you haven't gotten much because of me," he added before stiffly climbing out of the car. Joly watched Grantaire walk on shaky legs up to the house, leaving once he'd gotten inside.  


The house was empty when he got inside. Combeferre was probably working or in class. Combeferre had apparently been very busy during Grantaire's hospital stay. As soon as Grantaire entered his bedroom, he knew what had happened. Ferre had searched every possible corner of Grantaire's room to find and confiscate all of his drugs and strategically hidden bottles of alcohol. There was one lone pill sitting on his desk, surrounded by art supplies. A painkiller prescribed by Joly. Grantaire sighed quietly, a gesture much more calm than the fury he felt. The only thing he had left was his cigarettes. Combeferre came back home to find R perched delicately on the porch steps with a cigarette burning like the glare on the mans face.  


"It had to be done, R. You know that just as well as I do," Ferre said casually.  


"I can just get more," Grantaire said, a challenging look on his face.  


"Not without phone numbers. I deactivated your phone and took the liberty of getting you a different one. Your number changed, and I left out the numbers I didn't approve of," Combeferre explained, his voice giving away no hint of feeling. Grantaire was the opposite, a look of rage and betrayal on his face, clear as day. "I found your list of those numbers as well when I was cleaning your room out."  


"You sure were fucking thorough, weren't you?" Grantaire said bitterly, offering a cigarette to Combeferre.  


"I was," he said, accepting the cigarette and sitting down next to his friend. A tense silence fell over them for a while. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" Combeferre asked. Grantaire tensed. Sometimes he hated that Combeferre refused to beat around the bush.  


"I got my ass kicked in an alley," Grantaire said flatly. Combeferre was about to say more on the subject, but refrained.  


"Everyone wants to see you. They're worried," he settled on saying.  


"Are they now?" Grantaire asked, his tone implying he didn't believe a word of it. Combeferre held back a sigh.  


"Come to the next Amis meeting. It's tomorrow evening. Enjolras is planning something."  


"Enjolras is always planning something," Grantaire said, rolling his eyes.  


"Yes, but this is big. It's a protest."  


"What's a protest going to do other than piss off the police? He can protest the government all he wants, it's not going to change anything. People are still going to be poor, and hungry, and sick."  


"What's going on with you, R? You argue with him and shit on his ideals all the time, but you look at him like he's the greatest thing in the world," Combeferre huffed, abruptly changing the subject. Grantaire flicked his cigarette butt angrily into the yard and went to stand.  


"I'm going in," he muttered.  


"No you're not," Combeferre said, grabbing his wrist and keeping him seated. "I'm sick of you avoiding my questions all the time. I can't stand you bottling all this up anymore, you can't fight all your battles alone. We are going to talk about this." Grantaire just stared at him with his jaw set. Combeferre stared back steadily. Grantaire wasn't getting out of this. "Now tell me what's going on."  


"I don't know what's going on," Grantaire sighed, defeated.  


"Just do your best."  


Grantaire scrubbed a hand over his face nervously. "It's stupid, really. I can't think of a word for it. Admiration is close, I think. I have an insanely ridiculous amount of admiration for Enjolras. I don't believe in his cause. I don't believe in anything, you know that. But I believe in him. If that makes any sense," he explained. Combeferre nodded thoughtfully.  


"It's more than that," he pressed gently. Grantaire resisted the urge to glare.  


"Fuck, _why_ are we even talking about this," Grantaire said under his breath. "It is more than that," he started, louder. He decided to get it all out in one attempt, if only to get the conversation over with sooner.  


"I am _impossibly_ attracted to the idiot, and everything that he is. Have been since the fucking day I met him. It's terrifying, honestly. It's pathetic how desperate I am for his attention," Grantaire explained, feeling like a fucking teenager.  


"I may be wrong, but I'm almost positive that there are better ways of earning attention than ruthlessly antagonizing your muse," Combeferre suggested.  


"Can't take that chance. It's safer to have him hate me," R shrugged.  


"He doesn't hate you."  


"Strongly dislikes me, then."  


"It's not even that. He cares about you, in case you haven't been paying attention," Combeferre said.  


"No. You _told_ him to care about me, don't bother lying. He doesn't even have the capacity to care about anything that isn't his _cause_ , let alone an alcoholic piece of shit with a drug problem on top of that and nothing to fight for."  


"You know, not everything is out to make your life miserable, R. I told him to _talk_ to you. That's it. Whatever he did before or after is entirely on him, so you can't sit there and blame me for something I didn't even do. It's Enjolras, he doesn't do anything he doesn't want to. Just think of that," Combeferre explained, ending his short rant with a tone of finality. They started this conversation on his terms, they were ending it on the same. Grantaire wasn't stupid. He knew Combeferre. And Combeferre knew Grantaire. And those words were going to burrow under Grantaire's skin for days.  


"Now. It's cold and you're still healing. Come inside," Combeferre said.  


Grantaire went to the meeting. He didn't want to, but he went, and he was a mess. Not the kind of mess he wanted to be. He knew it was all a disaster waiting to happen, and he wanted to hate Combeferre with everything he had for doing this to him. He hadn't had a drink since before his hospital stay, and the pain killers in his system weren't even remotely close enough to satisfying, and everything was way too clear and bright and he was _feeling_ and there were never enough cigarettes and there were a lot of people in the room, and they were all trying not to look at Grantaire like he was a fucking time bomb and his brain just needed to _fucking stop_.  


He shuffled into the back of the group with his shoulders hunched and his jaw clenched, and wouldn't look at anybody. Combeferre let him be. It was a good call. Grantaire was ready to strangle him. Or cry. He didn't know which. He just wanted a fucking drink. Enjolras began the meeting very shortly after his and Combeferre's arrival, before any of the usual idle chatter could begin.  


Grantaire's forehead was resting against the tabletop, and he was trying to ignore the fact that his hands wouldn't stop shaking. The voices around him had turned into some horrible, incessant droning a long time ago and he wanted it to stop. He needed quiet.  


"May I sit?"  


Grantaire flinched and sat up too fast, not expecting anyone to be so close to him. Enjolras stood before him, expression as polite and innocent as the question. Grantaire managed a tight nod before dropping his head back on the table and wondering when the meeting had even ended. Enjolras sat down across from him and was quiet for a long moment. Grantaire could feel the gears turning in Enjolras' head.  


"What do you need?" Enjolras asked. It wasn't an offer. Enjolras knew Grantaire was in need, and was going to provide the best help he could. That bit of knowledge almost set the looming panic attack off inside Grantaire.  


"Outside," Grantaire choked out automatically. There were too many walls in the café Musain. Grantaire needed a significantly fewer amount of walls. The next thing he knew, his feet were moving, and he was being led out through the back of the café. When they were outside, Enjolras dropped Grantaire's wrist and stood a respectable distance away. Grantaire moved automatically, and had a burning cigarette in between two shaking fingers before he had fully even realized it. All was quiet, like Grantaire had wanted, but he couldn't shake himself out of whatever ridiculous stupor he had found himself in.  


He could hear Enjolras shuffling cautiously near him. The red jacket the blonde was wearing was in Grantaire's line of sight, but he wasn't really seeing it. He could see Enjolras lifting a hesitant hand, withdrawing it slightly, almost dropping it completely. He took a shaky drag off of his cigarette and Enjolras had lifted his hand again and very, very carefully rested it at the base of Grantaire's neck. The cigarette fell.  


Without meaning to, Grantaire's stiff shoulders slumped slightly, he leaned into the touch, and a pathetic, choked, fucking _relieved_ whine bubbled out of him, and Enjolras' conclusion to his weird experiment had been decided. He took a step closer and Grantaire ended up just slumping weakly onto Enjolras, his forehead dropping onto his shoulder. Enjolras just held him up and rubbed the tension out of his neck and didn't ask any questions, didn't say a word at all.  


"Breathe," Enjolras eventually whispered into Grantaire's hair. And he did. He let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding and Enjolras just held him tighter and Grantaire let his limp arms finally wrap around Enjolras' waist. He breathed Enjolras in shamelessly, taking all the comfort he could get out of this while it lasted because he was pathetic and wanted to hold onto this as long as he possibly could.  


"I'm sorry I can't be what you want me to be," Grantaire said, completely without his permission, voice muffled by Enjolras' shoulder.  


"I want you to be happy. That's all I want you to be," Enjolras said. Grantaire could hear the sad smile in his voice. "I know you don't want to hear this. I know you've heard it a million times before. But I want you to get the help you need." He pulled back slightly from Grantaire and nudged his head up gently to look him in the eye. "And if you aren't going to do it for yourself, then I'd like you to consider doing it for me," he said softly. Grantaire stared at him for a long moment.  


"Fine," Grantaire said because he was a hopeless idiot. "But _you_ get to deal with it when it all goes to shit. Which it will. It's not going to work."

That was a good enough answer for Enjolras.


	6. Six.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rehab? Grantaire Baggins? Grantaire Gaga? Cosette is a doll and Grantaire is forever thankful for her.

He hated it. He hated Combeferre, and he hated Enjolras, and he hated everyone he knew, but he liked Cosette because she was just a fucking _flower_ and he liked flowers, but he was hungover- he had gotten his alcohol and his pills back, when Joly realized what Combeferre had done and started panicking about the dangers of taking everything away so suddenly. It had been too early for this shit and the sun was too bright and he didn't like that everyone had to fucking be there to watch him go like he was _Frodo fucking Baggins_ and the taxi was his ship.  


Grantaire could easily tell Combeferre was upset that he wasn't the chosen escort, but he also understood why because he understood everything. So he hugged Grantaire and promised to visit soon before letting him climb into the cab.  


Enjolras had put Grantaire's meager belongings in the trunk, refusing to let Grantaire hold anything when the dark haired, miserable boy kept dropping things, and got into the taxi with Grantaire. "Ready to go?" he asked.  


"I'm already in the fucking cab, of course I'm ready," Grantaire snapped. He regretted the statement before he even finished speaking. He spent the entire ride with his legs pulled up to his chest and his head against the window, and the cab driver was kind enough to let him chain smoke.  


When they pulled up to the building, Grantaire froze. He stared at the building blankly, Enjolras moving just a fuzzy background noise surrounding him. His door opened and Enjolras stood there with both of Grantaire's bags hanging off of either shoulder.  


"R, it's time to go in," Enjolras said, loud enough to draw Grantaire's attention away from the building. Grantaire left the car and stood on shaky legs, on the verge of hyperventilating. Enjolras didn't say anything. He reached over with a very small, very gentle grin, and the next thing R knew, his hand was enveloped in warmth and he was latching on tightly and it made it that much easier to force himself forward.  


The lady at the front desk was nice enough, but Grantaire couldn't pay much attention. He was only really concentrating on the fact that Enjolras hadn't let go of his hand yet. It was the only thought keeping him relatively grounded, and he needed that desperately. The lady led them through the building, stopping in front of Grantaire's designated room. "I'll leave you two be for a minute. I'll be just out here," she said, stepping aside to let them enter the room.  


Enjolras finally released Grantaire's hand, flexing his fingers a bit. Grantaire noticed, and mumbled a small apology for the vice-like grip he hadn't realized he'd had on the blonde mans hand. He stood in the room, feeling useless as Enjolras got his things relatively in order. When Enjolras looked back up at Grantaire, he could see the fear written clearly on his face. He grinned, slightly amused.  


"What's wrong?" he asked. Grantaire shrugged feebly and looked away.  


"This is a _really_ fucking stupid idea. It isn't going to work, and I'm going to let all of you down like I always do," he admitted. His voice was tight, and his breathing was shallow. He could feel the completely uninvited lump forming in his throat, and he mentally cursed himself for being so emotional. If he could have a drink (or several) it wouldn't have been an issue.  


"Shut up, R. As long as I've known you, you've never let any of us down. You can be an insufferable prick at times, of course, but I don't think anyone would have you any other way, even if given the choice. Just focus on yourself, for once. You have plenty of time to do that while you're here. It's going to be okay," Enjolras explained. Grantaire chewed at his bottom lip, staring at the floor and desperately ignoring the stinging in his eyes.  


"You don't know that. Not for sure," Grantaire stammered, absently lifting a hand to his hair, tugging at the dark mess. "It's just- it's just going to fall apart as soon as I'm out, and all of this trouble is going to be for nothing, and you're going to stop being this nice to me. Ferre is definitely going to give up on me-"  


" _Grantaire_ ," Enjolras interrupted the rambling sternly. Grantaire was quiet, and Enjolras sighed. He didn't say anything after shutting Grantaire up. He simply took in his appearance with a knowing look and took a step closer, prying Grantaire's hand out of his hair and pulling the panicking young man into a hug. Enjolras' fingers found that calming spot on the back of Grantaire's neck once more, fingers gently brushing through the hair at the nape. Grantaire once again found himself melting into the man. He hated himself for it, for being so hopelessly caught up in Enjolras. "You deserve all the happiness in the world," Enjolras muttered into Grantaire's hair. Grantaire froze for half a moment, but relaxed when he realized it wasn't worth arguing. Not this time.  


"You need to go before I find a way to keep you here," Grantaire eventually mumbled, nuzzling his nose into the side of Enjolras' neck without realizing he was doing it. Enjolras let out a small chuckle at that, and squeezed Grantaire a little tighter before finally releasing him.  


"You'll be fine. Just let these people help you," he said. "You know everyone will visit as much as they can, you have plenty of art supplies to keep you relatively sane. And if you need more, we will gladly bring you more. I know you're not going to admit it, even though you aren't even trying to hide it at all, but you're scared.  


"You need to stop focusing on the bad things that you think are going to happen, R. You'll do just fine here," Enjolras explained with a soft smile. It wasn't much longer before he left and Grantaire was on his own for the next two months.  


"How are you feeling, Grantaire?" the nurse, doctor, _whoeverthefuck_ it was asked. It was the third time that day that he had been approached by the woman, and she didn't seem to know any other fucking questions. Grantaire glared at her from his spot, tucked into the corner of the bed. He had his sketchbook clasped tightly between his shaking hands. The drawing was shit, and Grantaire had taken to just scribbling all over the page, angry and antsy and unnecessarily upset.  


"Like the fucking sun is shining out my ass," he said flatly. In the back of his mind, he knew he was being an asshole. He knew the woman didn't deserve him lashing out at her like a petulant child. And he could see that she knew he didn't mean any of it.  


"This is the worst part, I promise. Once you're finished with detox, it'll get a lot easier," she said with a gentle smile. "May I sit?" she asked, gesturing toward the bed. He nodded tightly after a moments hesitation, and watched as she sat on the edge and curiously glanced at the sketchbook in his hands.  


"You like art, I see," she commented. He shrugged, biting back a rude remark.  


"It's not going too well today," he muttered instead.  


"You're under a huge amount of stress right now, I don't doubt it. Do you have any I could see? I'm terrible at art, but I love it all the same," she asked. Grantaire considered it for a moment before he unfolded himself and slid off of the bed to dig around his bag of art supplies, pulling out a small sketchbook. He sat next to her and passed the book over, quiet as she flipped through the pages, trying to convince himself everything would be okay.  


Grantaire's absence was a strange thing for everyone. It wasn't like the times he was ill, where he was usually a text, or a phone call, or a short walk away. None of his friends were allowed contact with him for the first part of his rehabilitation, and not a single one of them was okay with that.  


There had been a few meetings since his departure, and they had all seemed off without him. Everyone felt it, but nobody really talked about it. Jehan, sweet little Jean Prouvaire, was the first to really even mention it. The meeting had been relatively short, and most of Les Amis had nowhere to be afterwards, so they took the rare time to simply be with one another.  


"I miss Grantaire," he had sighed, looking at the dark haired young mans usual spot longingly. That declaration had sparked a series of scattered conversations relating to the artist. Enjolras had nothing to say on the matter, but he did find himself distracted from his laptop to listen. He could only imagine what Grantaire would think if he could hear all of this, if he could hear the little stories and comments and all the seemingly insignificant things his friends had remembered about him. Enjolras desperately hoped that the man would be more accepting of the fact that he truly did have a family with these people once he was back home.  


"You look like you could cry or hit a man right now," the light voice of Cosette sounded as she sat down next to Enjolras, dragging him out of his thoughts.  


"Neither one of those would be very effective," he replied, tapping a pen restlessly on the tabletop.  


"How did you first meet him? I've heard everyone else's experiences with meeting him. I would like to hear yours," she asked, stealing the pen and stilling his hands with her own. He didn't even have to search for the memory of meeting Grantaire. The memory almost brought a grin to his lips.  


"I met R at a party I was forced to go to a few years back. Courfeyrac sort of guilt tripped me into going, and I was angry because I had better things to do than babysit a bunch of drunk young adults. I had remembered Combeferre saying he was going to bring a friend over." His attempt to keep from grinning failed as he recalled the memory.  


"The first time I had ever seen Grantaire, he was dancing half naked on top of that shitty coffee table Courf won't get rid of. It wasn't the silly drunken dancing one would expect. No, he was _dancing_ , and it was _so_ inappropriate for a small house party, and he didn't seem at all opposed to just doing a full blown strip tease. But he was so happy, and Jehan was wailing with laughter, shoving bills into Grantaire's pockets.  


"He then proceeded to lose all sense of grace and fell off the table when Ferre tried introducing us, and he ended up with a nasty concussion. Being the only sober one, I took him to the hospital and got to listen to him telling me and anyone who would listen about how beautiful I was for the remainder of the night," Enjolras explained. He couldn't quite stop himself from laughing lightly as he told the story. "It was one of the few times I've ever seen him truly happy. I would like to see him that happy again. He deserves it. He used to dance all the time, like it was easier than breathing," he added, a rueful tone to his voice. Cosette smiled softly at him.  


"So dance with him," she shrugged. Enjolras rose a brow.  


"One, I don't dance. I _can't_ dance, it's not in my skill set and he would only put me to shame. Two, why would I dance with him?" he said. It was meant as a rhetorical question, and he knew Cosette knew that.  


"Because you like him. Don't give me that look, Enj. I'm not stupid, I know you do," she said. It was her turn to raise a brow. "You have your differences, and you both argue a lot, and he's got a lot of issues with people in general, but I know you care about him as fiercely as you care about everyone else, despite it all. You just also happen to want to kiss him all the time."  


Enjolras floundered for an argument against her words as she smiled devilishly at him. He never found one.  


"Do you remember when you first started turning to alcohol to cope?" the therapist asked Grantaire. He heaved a long sigh as he thought it over.  


"In my teens, I suppose," he shrugged. And, because his therapist argued that details were important, and she was going to ask him about everything anyway, he begrudgingly explained himself. "Once I figured out that alcohol took away a lot of feeling, it made family life a lot easier to deal with, especially after my sister was gone. Nothing hurt as much when I was drunk, it was just... just easier.  


"My parents had royally fucked me up when it came to other people. I couldn't talk to people sober to save my life. Seeing as I was a teenager, I was still generally sober, and Combeferre helped a lot then. My social skills were awful, and still are for the most part. He had to do a lot of the talking for me. Then I was put on anxiety medication, and that's when I started with the pills. Everything just escalated from there.  


"I eventually needed more than just the pills and the alcohol, so I managed to get heroin out of the guy I got pills from. It started to become a problem, but Combeferre put a stop to that as soon as he suspected it. But I figured out ways around him, and would get my fix whenever I really needed it.  


"It took him longer to figure out that I was really abusing pills, for whatever reason. Obviously he figured it out when he found me overdosing on sleeping pills. He had this rule for me, where I always had to answer his texts or he would do something brash, and I didn't answer so he broke into my parents house, caused a scene, saved my life, and made up a story for his friends when they asked about me when I was still in the hospital. I can't say I'm happy that he saved my life, though," Grantaire ended the story with a shrug.  


His therapist took a moment to write some notes down before looking up at him. "May I ask why you're unhappy about your friend saving your life?" she asked. Grantaire decided very quickly that he hated therapy.  


"He took my decision away from me. I didn't want to live. I still don't want to, nothing has gotten better and I'm not even living with my family. I'm completely dead to my family, and after what they had put me through, you'd think I would have gotten better. But no, everything's just been getting worse, and I'm on mostly constant suicide watch, even if the others don't know that's why Combeferre always tries to have someone with me. He took my decision from me and won't give it back," he explained.  


"Have you considered that it's because he cares about you? That the others care about you?"  


"Caring and pitying are two different things. He pities me. They all do, and that's why they keep me around. Nobody wants to go to a funeral."  


The session went on longer than planned, as the therapist learned everything Grantaire was begrudgingly willing to teach. She knew he was going to be one of the biggest challenges she'd had in a while.  


Cosette was sitting behind Eponine, braiding the dark hair, brushing it out, and braiding it again, a different kind of braid forming every time. Enjolras was talking about the protest they were having after the holidays. It was still a while off, but he wanted to be prepared for any possible outcome.  


Her phone started vibrating in her pocket, and she pulled it out to see who was calling when everyone she knew was in the same room as her. She furrowed her brows and answered quietly. She was suddenly standing and Eponine looked up at her curiously. As she spoke lowly into the phone, she grabbed a napkin and stole a pen from Jehan, scribbling a note and shoving it into Eponine's hand before slipping out the door.  


_It's Grantaire. Don't say anything._ the note read. Eponine crumpled up the napkin and met Jehan's questioning eyes. She simply shrugged and gestured back to Enjolras.  


Cosette came back inside almost fifteen minutes later, looking content and flustered at the same time, and Enjolras was still talking. She took her place back behind Eponine to continue her braiding.  


As per usual, everyone stuck around for a bit after the meeting was adjourned. Cosette waited for the excited chatter about the meeting to die down into more casual conversation before standing up and drawing everyone's attention as best she could. It wasn't hard to do. If she wanted attention, she had absolutely no problem getting it.  


"Okay, so I have some news for all of you all. It's about Grantaire," she said. Everyone seemed ready to start asking questions, but Cosette stopped all that before it could begin. "First of all, he says hello to all of us, and that he expects a notebook full of grossly sad poems from Jehan whenever he gets back." Everyone seemed so happy as she spoke, and Cosette didn't want to ruin it, but she had no choice.  


"Secondly, he has asked me to say that he doesn't want visitors, even though he's allowed them now. He didn't tell me why, and I wasn't going to ask because that's his business." She looked pointedly between Combeferre and Enjolras as she continued. "We should respect his wishes, and not call him or make any unexpected trips up there. If he wants to call one of us, he will.  


"He misses everyone though, and apologised for the inconvenience," she finished. Once everyone was occupied with that information, Cosette collected Combeferre and Enjolras, dragging them outside.  


"He told you why he doesn't want visitors, didn't he," Combeferre stated more than asked, cutting off Enjolras' questions before the blond could even start.  


"Yes, smarty pants, and I thought you two deserved the explanation. Especially since you two are the most likely to ignore his request," she said with a knowing smirk. "He doesn't want visitors because he needs time to get accustomed to all of this by himself first," she said. She bit at her lower lip nervously and added, "There's one other thing, and it's _kind of_ a big thing, and he's kind of freaking out about it."  


"What is it?" Combeferre asked calmly. There was an unspoken agreement between the boys that Combeferre was to do the talking in this situation, apparently.  


"So, they brought a psychologist in. One that has the ability to actually diagnose people, rather than counseling them. Aside from the almost severe anxiety he already knew about, Grantaire was diagnosed with a bipolar disorder. He said it's not the most severe kind, but from his understanding it's still cause for concern," she explained. Combeferre sighed heavily and exchanged a look with Enjolras.  


"Is he going to be medicated for it?" Ferre asked uneasily.  


"No one's decided. If anything, the psychologist is going to keep in touch with him once he's out, and if we can't do anything for him, they're going to discuss the possibility," she said. Glancing at Enjolras, she almost flinched back. He looked murderous.  


And he was. He knew a bit about the disorder, from helping Joly study. He remembered that child abuse could contribute to the disorder, and he remembered what little information Grantaire had shared with him about his childhood, and Enjolras was furious. He wanted to hurt everyone and everything that hurt Grantaire, and that included himself for being so cruel to the man from time to time. He hated that he was so heartless, so thoughtless that he never considered why Grantaire had his habits.  


Combeferre was lost in his own thoughts while Cosette watched Enjolras. Combeferre was the most put together man she had ever met, and she knew he could handle this information with grace. Anyone else would have backed away from Enjolras with that look on his face, but Cosette was as brave and terrifying in her own right as she was sweet and nurturing.  


She took a step closer to Enjolras and took his hand in hers, gently prying it out of the shaking fist and filling the space with her fingers, running her thumb over his knuckles. She smiled softly up at him, and nothing more was said. She and Combeferre nodded at one another, and Combeferre went back inside.  


Group therapy was a nightmare for Grantaire, and an irritation for everyone that got to deal with him. He never quite ceased passively lashing out at whoever was there to annoy him, and he would feel bad about it later and paint or draw something for his victims by way of apology. For those he couldn't draw for, he would play the piano in the recreational area of the center.  


He got along with them all well enough when no one was trying to pry into his heart. He was awkward and quiet, and avoided them all generally, but catching him in a good mood made it clear that he was a good, kind person underneath the walls he put up around himself.  


He resolutely refused to share anything substantial at group therapy no matter how hard the therapist tried. It just wasn't going to happen. But group therapy meant Grantaire was almost done, and he was ready to leave. He wasn't quite ready to deal with his friends and all of their unique intensities, but he had no choice. That didn't mean he wouldn't prolong it as long as possible, however. That was why he wanted Cosette to pick him up. She was intense, of course she was. Oftentimes, it was scary just how intimidatingly obvious her presence was. She was just a force of loving nature, of subtle brutality. But she was gentle, and kind, and soft spoken, and she could be Grantaire's crutch. He chose her, because even though they hadn't known each other very long, and even though she had a nearly terrifying hold on all emotion, they understood one another.  


Grantaire was in the main lobby of the center with his forehead leaning against the window, staring outside glumly on the day of his release. He stayed like that for awhile, quiet and unmoving, until he became just another fixture to the receptionist.  


Grantaire perked up suddenly, knocking one of his bags over in the process, startling the receptionist. He was on his feet and scrambling for the door clumsily, and any witnesses around saw the first genuine smile on the young mans face any one of them had ever seen as he burst out of the door giggling.  


Cosette couldn't help laughing as she walked up the pathway to the building. Grantaire looked ridiculous as he ran outside, rushing towards her excitedly. She started bouncing happily toward him with arms outstretched, calling his name with each bounce, and he lifted her off the ground as he hugged her, burying his face her hair and inhaling contentedly.  


"It's good to see you," he sighed into her neck, not really wanting to let go of her.  


"Come on, R," she laughed lightly. "You and I are going back to my flat to eat _way_ too much ice cream, and we're going to watch the Lord of the Rings in all of it's extended glory," she said, planting a kiss on his cheek and pulling away from him. And that was exactly what they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to imagine this as the song Grantaire was dancing to. Just go with it. Imagine it. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IliDDhhNGuI  
> Also, this chapter gave me so much trouble, I still don't know if I'm satisfied with how it turned out. Bear with me dearies, all of you have made this story worth it already, I very much like you all.


	7. Sept.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy accidents. Christmas. Protests. Grantaire won't trade his friends for anything ever.

Grantaire ended up staying at Cosette's flat for several days. Of course, he felt bad for it but Cosette wasn't listening. She wanted him to be comfortable before returning to the house he shared with Combeferre. Plus she really just enjoyed his company. She and Grantaire had developed an interesting relationship since they met at his birthday party, and they were only falling deeper and deeper into that as the days passed. Neither one of them seemed to have any qualms with that fact.  


It was Grantaire's decision, in the end, to make an appearance. It was snowing, so Grantaire bundled himself up in a beanie and a scarf, and threw on the only nice, functional winter coat he had. Grantaire had the ability to avoid detection if he so wished it, so sneaking into the café was very easy. Only one person saw him come in, and that was Enjolras, who only stammered a little bit in surprise. He saved himself by clearing his throat, and nobody thought anything of it. Grantaire winked at the blond revolutionary and found a seat away from his friends, removing the scarf and beanie to watch Enjolras speak.  


When the meeting was over, Grantaire rose from his seat and slipped outside, bundled up once again. He had just lit a cigarette when someone joined him outside. As he exhaled, he looked to see Enjolras approaching him, and the look of wonder in the mans eyes, the soft excitement in his smile twisted up Grantaire's insides.  


"Hello, Apollo," he greeted casually, a crooked grin in place.  


"It's good to see you. You look well," Enjolras said softly. Grantaire snorted and shook his head.  


"No need to tiptoe around me, darling. I may be crazy, but I'm not going to explode," he said, a smile Enjolras could only describe as fond on his face.  


"Fine. You're still too skinny and you need to eat, and you probably shouldn't be smoking," Enjolras said, rolling his eyes. "And you're not crazy," he added, slight exasperation in his voice. Before Grantaire could respond, Joly came bursting out the door and wrapped himself around Grantaire like a frantic octopus, causing him to stumble back.  


"Your tests came back a few weeks ago and you're completely clean and I missed you please don't ever leave _again_ ," Joly rushed. Grantaire froze under the man, shooting a panicked look over Joly's shoulder to see Enjolras watching curiously. Grantaire regained his composure enough to hug Joly back before pulling away.  


"Joly, mon ami, I missed you too, and I never want to leave for that long again, but there are some things you and I can talk about _later_ , don't you think?" Grantaire explained, his voice cracking toward the end. Joly seemed to finally notice Enjolras' presence, and the panic in Grantaire's face. He looked between Grantaire and Enjolras speechlessly for a moment.  


"Oh. He didn't know. R, I'm so sorry-"  


"Joly, _relax_ ," Grantaire said, smiling warmly. "Go back inside, get back to Bossuet. I'm very happy to see you, but now you're panicking and that's not good for anyone," he added, guiding Joly back to the door with a hand on his back. His calm facade cracked, and the warm smile turned into a tight, nervous, scared grin as he turned back to Enjolras once Joly was inside.  


"Should I ask, or should I leave it be?" Enjolras questioned tentatively, sounding almost awkward. Grantaire sighed and tugged lightly at his hair.  


"When I was in the hospital, I asked Joly to run some certain tests. I'd gotten myself into some... some unsavory situations in my time away and needed to be sure of a few things," the dark haired man explained briefly. Enjolras nodded thoughtfully, noticing Grantaire shrinking into himself as he spoke.  


"I'm buying you some food," Enjolras said, changing the subject abruptly. Grantaire made to argue, but refrained as Enjolras raised a brow.  


"Let me at least say hello to everyone else first," he sighed in defeat, dropping the butt of his cigarette on the pavement and putting it out with the toe of his shoe. He was bombarded by hugs, a kiss hard on the mouth by Jehan, questions, and general excitement almost as soon as he was back inside. Though he had known these people for years, it was still overwhelming. The experience put into perspective just how awful at socializing without some sort of inebriation he was. It reminded him just how bad he was at handling his anxiety, and when he was approached by Combeferre, it just got worse.  


"I'm sorry," the artist managed to whisper a bit breathlessly after staring at his friend blankly for a moment. Combeferre shook his head and smiled, engulfing R into a hug. Grantaire was shaking and Ferre held him tighter. Grantaire kept babbling apologies into his shoulder and Ferre just shushed him. They stayed like that for a long moment before Combeferre pulled away and looked warmly at R.  


"Come back home whenever you're ready. I'm assuming Enjolras is trying to feed you, now go," he said, squeezing Grantaire's arm and pushing him back toward Enjolras. The pair left the Musain, Grantaire with promises to officially come out of hiding soon.  


There were a lot of noticeable changes in Grantaire, Enjolras noted, but his love for pasta and his lack of proper pasta etiquette remained the same. It was something he couldn't help but watch with a fond grin.  


"Your food is going to get cold if you don't stop staring at me and eat it," Grantaire said around a mouthful, somehow managing a smirk. "I told you, my eating habits aren't going to change."  


Enjolras let out a short chuckle. "Sorry, it's just... it's entertaining," he said with a casual shrug. "So how was your stay? Cosette says you hated it," he asked curiously. Grantaire rolled his eyes.  


"It was awful. It was boring and all anyone did was ask questions. I mean, I understand that it was their job to, but I don't like questions. The only good thing was the lighting. The lighting was perfect for painting and all that. And there was a piano," Grantaire explained.  


"Well, everyone's glad to have you home. Do you mind if I ask how you're feeling now?" Enjolras asked. Grantaire shrugged.  


"Weird. I've never been around any of you completely sober, or when I wasn't suffering from withdrawal. I feel like I'm in fucking high school again, and I'm going to have to rely on Combeferre doing everything for me, especially with the development of being bipolar," he explained. "I guess weird isn't the word I'm looking for. I'm scared, quite honestly. Just really, _really_ scared," he laughed uneasily.  


"It's okay to be scared," Enjolras shrugged. He didn't really know what else to say other than that, but judging by the small grin on Grantaire's face, he didn't need to say more.  


The evening went along without a single argument. Enjolras was relaxed, for once, and Grantaire soaked that up as much as he could. The evening was going too well, and Grantaire kept waiting and waiting for the world to right itself again, for one of them to fuck things up somehow.  


The two were walking, Enjolras shivering because he was a baby when it came to being cold, and Grantaire was starting to think the defining terrible moment of the evening would never come. As Enjolras tried to speak through chattering teeth, Grantaire couldn't stop laughing, and every time, Enjolras would glare and Grantaire would just laugh harder and tell him to keep talking. Enjolras was filling him in about all of his plans for the upcoming protest, and Grantaire would have payed attention if he wasn't so amused by the blonde's growing frustration with himself.  


When Grantaire pitied Enjolras enough, he stopped walking. Enjolras paused and Grantaire took one more moment to watch Enjolras shiver in the lightly falling snow, his nose red and his expression miserable and adorable, and Grantaire just shook his head and smiled, removing his beanie and scarf. He stuck the beanie on top of Enjolras' head, and wrapped the scarf around his neck, and kept walking. When Enjolras didn't move, Grantaire just grabbed his coat sleeve and pulled him along until he was moving on his own. The evening still never fell apart.  


They were outside of Cosette's door before either one of them really registered it. Enjolras pulled Grantaire into a hug once they were saying their goodbyes. "It's good to have you back, R. I honestly missed you arguing at meetings," he said.  


"The therapists never argued back. It will be an honor and a relief arguing with you once more, Apollo," Grantaire replied in a stately tone of voice, earning a light laugh.  


The two released each other, and that was the moment the evening fell apart. Grantaire almost missed it, it happened so fast, but it happened and there was absolutely no denying it. Enjolras had kissed him. It was just a quick peck to the lips, and Enjolras obviously hadn't even realized he had done it until after the fact, judging by the look of sheer terror on his face.  


"Shit. Shit, shit R, I-"  


"I have to go," Grantaire interrupted on a fucking squeak, fumbling to find the doorknob but unable to take his wide eyed stare off of Enjolras. "In. I have to go in. Cosette's w-waiting." He basically fell inside the flat, and slammed the door behind him. Enjolras stood dumbfounded for a moment before cursing to himself and pulling out his phone.  


Cosette jumped as Grantaire suddenly burst into her bedroom, looking terrified. She quickly pulled the earphones out of her ears and shut her textbook. "You're lucky Marius is already gone. What's wrong?" she asked. He threw himself down onto her bed and pressed his hands into his eyes, groaning.  


"He kissed me," Grantaire answered. Cosette grinned.  


"Isn't that a good thing?"  


"Well I should clarify. I don't think he meant to. It just sort of happened, and then he started babbling and his face got all red and I didn't give him the chance to speak before slamming the door in his stupidly pretty face. I'm so fucking confused, Cosette. I don't know what just happened, I don't know what to do, help," he rambled. Cosette listened patiently, but started giggling once he finished.  


"Why the fuck are you laughing? It's not funny," he whined, grabbing one of Cosette's pillows and pulling it over his face.  


"You thinking any of this is _bad_ is funny. He wouldn't have done it at all if he didn't like you, I hope you know that," Cosette explained.  


"No-"  


"Get your adorable little head out of your ass. You like him. He likes you. Accept the fact that you mean something to people, and fucking date your golden god," Cosette interrupted the dark haired boy before he could start arguing.  


"I'm such a fucking idiot, Ferre. I just did it without thinking. Why would I do that, it wasn't planned. I plan everything, and that just happened without any intention. And then he fucking looked at me like I murdered someone in front of him and ran inside, and now I fucked everything up," Enjolras explained, slumped miserably on the couch next to Combeferre. To his surprise, Combeferre started chuckling to himself, shaking his head. Enjolras lifted his head and glared at his friend.  


"I'm pretty sure that's the furthest thing from fucking up in recorded history," Combeferre laughed, ignoring the glare. He figured he might as well explain. For as smart as Enjolras was, he really was an idiot sometimes. "You do realize Grantaire has had a thing for you since you two first met, right?"  


"What?" Enjolras asked dumbly, brows furrowing. Combeferre sighed and rolled his eyes.  


"Your ignorance is incredible to me. Just ask him on an official date so this fucking bet can be over with," he said. Enjolras shot up straight in his seat.  


"You've all been _taking bets?!_ " he shouted. Combeferre only laughed in response.  


Grantaire had eventually decided he had spent enough time on Cosette's couch, and moved all of his things back to Combeferre's. He didn't tell Combeferre that he was going to be there, so when Combeferre got home and saw Grantaire napping on the couch, he was a bit surprised. He let Grantaire be and when he woke, it was to Combeferre making breakfast for dinner. They watched a movie, a really bad one that they found completely hilarious and that Ferre would never admit to actually liking if anyone else were to ask. Grantaire cuddled the shit out of Combeferre, and Combeferre let him, because they both had really missed each other. It was an evening well spent.  


Combeferre and Cosette had talked about the situation between Enjolras and Grantaire. They sat together at the next meeting, watching Enjolras fidget nervously as he tried to concentrate. Grantaire shuffled in last, already blushing as he kept his eyes on the ground. Enjolras shot out of his seat, almost knocking the chair down in his panic, the moment he saw Grantaire. Grantaire looked up at the commotion, blushing harder as he stopped moving. He was frozen as Enjolras approached him, and everyone's chatter died down in favor of watching whatever was about to unfold. Cosette snorted as soon as Enjolras started talking. He chose to go the professional route, trying to hide the fact that he was anxious. But he wasn't fooling anyone, not with the way he was stiff as a fucking board and talking too loud and it was, quite frankly, adorable.  


"Grantaire. Firstly I would like to apologise for scaring you the other night. It was an accident, I didn't mean to do what I did," he started, cheeks turning nearly as red as his sweater. Grantaire still only stared. "Secondly, I would like to take you out on a proper date if you will allow it," Enjolras concluded. It took a moment for Grantaire to find his bearings, but he smiled cheekily when he did.  


"Proper isn't how I do things, Apollo," he replied fondly. Enjolras was about to argue, but Grantaire put two fingers to the blond's lips. "But, I will go on a date with you, regardless of how proper it may be," he finished. And that was when the rest of Les Amis reacted, several smiling smugly as the others pulled out the payment owed. Enjolras hardly noticed. He had been too busy grinning, bright and sheepish, at Grantaire.  


"You've got a meeting to begin, oh Fearless Leader," Grantaire reminded him, nudging him toward his spot at the head of the group.  


Enjolras was in over his head. He had never really given himself time for dating, and had no idea how to go about it. He didn't know whether to dress casually or formally, he didn't know how to impress Grantaire, he didn't know anything and he had just about kidnapped Cosette to inform her of his worries as he prepared for the evening.  


"Enjolras, _relax_ ," she laughed. "It's _Grantaire_ , he's impressed by your existence alone. You could go gallivanting around in your pajamas and he'd still be impressed. I can guarantee you he doesn't know what he's doing at all either. He doesn't know relationships any better than you do. It's the first date, they're never perfect. They're awkward and you're both going to fumble around, and that's the magic of it. Just hold his fucking hand and enjoy every awkward moment you find," she explained as she grabbed his coat and shoved it into his hands before ushering him out the door. "And give him a proper kiss this time," she added with a mischievous grin before shutting the door behind him. Enjolras belatedly realized he was just kicked out of his own flat, but he had more pressing matters to think about.  


Ferre was watching Grantaire fidget nervously over the rim of his glasses, hiding his amusement behind a textbook. "This is bad. It's all going to be bad, I'm going to fuck this up, it's inevitable," Grantaire suddenly said dejectedly, throwing his hands up. Combeferre sighed with a fond grin.  


"You haven't fucked up yet, and I highly doubt you're going to," he said. Grantaire gave him a pointed look, raising a brow.  


"You're used to me fucking up, Ferre, your opinion doesn't count. You know the fuckery I'm capable of, so much so that you don't see it for what it is. He doesn't. I should never have agreed to this. I should have just pined forever," Grantaire rushed the words.  


"Well that's too fucking bad, R. You're no longer pining. Remove the stick from your ass and let yourself be happy for once, I'm not giving you a choice," Combeferre said, leaving no room for argument. He rarely was impatient with Grantaire, or anyone for that matter, but sometimes Grantaire just needed the push.  


"Mm, I like it when you're bossy," Grantaire said after a moments consideration, winking at his friend. Combeferre had a point, after all. Combeferre just shook his head and rolled his eyes, returning his attention to his textbook. There was a knock on the door, and Grantaire stood a bit too fast to get it.  


"Have a good night, R," Combeferre said warmly before Grantaire opened the door. Grantaire shot him a rare, genuine grin before slipping outside into the cold.  


"So, Apollo, what does tonight have in store?" Grantaire asked, ignoring the nervous quake in his voice. Enjolras grinned and shrugged.  


"It's almost Christmas, I figured we would go a bit further into the city and stare at Christmas lights, among other things equally as cheesy," he said lightly as the pair walked.  


There were plenty of people out, and shops open late for the holidays, and lights were strung up everywhere, giving the city a warm, colorful glow in the nighttime. The pair huddled close together as they walked; Enjolras was trying to steal Grantaire's body heat, Grantaire was making sure he didn't lose the blond in the crowd without overstepping boundaries. Enjolras took the initiative to overstep boundaries, however, by tentatively slipping his fingers between Grantaire's and holding on lightly. Both of their hands were freezing, but Enjolras could still feel the gentleness in Grantaire's hands. The only callouses he had were on his fingertips, but his hands were soft and gentle. Enjolras could almost feel the finesse and precision, the care Grantaire took in making his art, or playing his music.  


A quick glance at the artist revealed the look of wonder on his face, and the poorly concealed fear in his eyes. Enjolras only grinned and squeezed lightly, pulling Grantaire forward to keep him moving. The pair let themselves get lost in the lights, Grantaire commenting that he would have to paint it all later at one point. Enjolras eventually realized they were in an area of the city that he wasn't entirely familiar with, but his worries were forgotten when Grantaire tugged on his hand, bringing him to a stop. There was an excited grin on his face, and a mischievous light in his eyes as he looked at Enjolras' confused face.  


"Come on, I want to show you something," he said, not giving Enjolras the chance to speak before crossing the street. A jolt of panic rolled down Enjolras' spine as Grantaire marched across the street with no acknowledgement of the fact that cars drove there. Enjolras followed, ignoring every instinct he had to halt the mission and demand answers. He didn't want to fight Grantaire, not on a first date. He caught on to Grantaire's plan a moment too late, when the dark haired boy stopped and looked around quickly before gripping the old, metal gate in front of them.  


"What are you doing?" Enjolras asked, looking between Grantaire and the _No Trespassing_ sign on the bars with a sharp and worried expression. Grantaire released the bars and turned to fully face the blond. He smiled mischievously.  


"Oh, Apollo," he said on an exaggerated sigh, feigning exasperation. "I would never lead you into danger, only follow you into it."  


"You're an idiot. Please, develop some self preservation skills," Enjolras rolled his eyes, grinning despite the worried knot in his stomach. Grantaire's grin only grew more devilish.  


"Just think of it as defying the government. You want to change things, then you have to climb over gates you aren't supposed to," Grantaire said as he hoisted himself over the gate in a surprisingly graceful set of movements. It was the grace only a dancer would have. Once Enjolras was over the gate, Grantaire grabbed his hand and led him further into the area. Enjolras didn't know what the buildings were for, and frankly didn't want to know.  


"I found Gavroche here last year when Eponine couldn't find him anywhere," Grantaire explained as his eyes searched their surroundings. "It was Christmas and he ran off because his and 'Ponine's parents were being their usual terrible selves. He'll never admit it but I know he was upset about it. If anyone was going to find him, it was me. I know this city better than anyone, I taught him what he knows and that's why Eponine hates me most of the time. Anyway, I ended up finding him up on top of one of these buildings and just sat with him. We had our own miserable Christmas up on a roof, freezing half to death and just looking out at the city. He's got a good eye," he finished, finding whatever he was looking for. It was a ladder leading up to the roof of a particularly tall building, and he started climbing, not waiting for Enjolras. Once Enjolras was up the ladder, he followed Grantaire to the other end, and realized what he had meant by 'good eye.' The view of the city and all the colorful lights was amazing.  


"Is that why this place is special?" Enjolras asked after taking a moment to admire the view. Grantaire shrugged and sat down, leaning back on his hands.  


"In part, yeah. It's just peaceful, really. I'm a mess and you've got the stick of justice up your ass, I figured we could both use some peace," he explained, shooting a quick, cheeky grin at Enjolras as the blond sat down and glared half heartedly.  


It really was peaceful. They were quiet the majority of the time, just looking out at the city. Enjolras, like the heat seeking leech he was, scooted as close as he could to Grantaire in search of warmth, and Grantaire grinned to himself and dropped his head onto the blond's shoulder, hoping it was allowed. It was, apparently, because Enjolras buried his nose in Grantaire's hair.  


"What are we doing?" Grantaire asked awkwardly after a bit. "I have no idea what's going on, I want to understand this plan."  


Enjolras huffed a breath of laughter and grinned into the mess of dark hair. "Surprisingly, I don't have this planned out, R," he said teasingly. "I just want to be around you, if that's okay. I don't want to plan every detail of whatever this is," he finished with a small shrug of his free shoulder.  


"I'm going to mess up,"Grantaire warned, voice small.  


"So am I. But I think it's worth trying," Enjolras said. Grantaire was quiet for a while at that.  


"Why are you doing this, anyway?" he finally asked. "I don't understand. You've only tolerated me as long as we've known each other, all I ever do is pick fights and make fun of your cause. I've given you no reason to even want to be in the same room as me most of the time, but you're here now and I can't figure it out." Enjolras could hear the confusion and self loathing in Grantaire's voice and sighed. He nudged Grantaire's head off of his shoulder, and turned to face him fully, giving Grantaire no room to escape the conversation.  


"You need to stop thinking that people couldn't care less about you, I want to make that perfectly clear before anything else. I'm here because I _want_ to be here. That's all you need to understand. I want to be with you simply because you are you. And because you're you, I'm going to have to more or less spell it out. Yes, you have the habit of picking fights and taunting me for what I believe in, but that's not important. You have a huge heart. I see it all the time, in the little things you do for all of us. And the big things. You're incredibly smart, and incredibly talented. You see the world in a different light, almost everything is art to you, and quite frankly, it's beautiful. There's so much to you, I wish you could see all the good in you. And I love the way you eat, it's adorable. Not to mention, you're incredibly attractive, which is nice," Enjolras explained, ending his speech with a cheeky grin. Grantaire looked halfway between laughing or running. Enjolras wouldn't have been surprised at either outcome.  


"I could kiss you," Grantaire blurted before he could stop himself. Enjolras' smile grew wider.  


"You could, couldn't you," he agreed, really hoping Grantaire got the not-so-subtle hint. Grantaire understood, and a look of shock and disbelief took over his face for half a moment. Grantaire all but pounced onto Enjolras, landing clumsily into his lap. Enjolras laughed lightly as Grantaire's lips eagerly met his, finding the artists over eagerness far too adorable. Grantaire sighed into the kiss contentedly, hands tightly gripping the collar of Enjolras' jacket. It was short lived, and sweet, and excited, and simple, and then it was done, and Grantaire couldn't get the ridiculous disbelieving look off his face, and Enjolras couldn't stop grinning. But despite Grantaire's excitement, the fear was still there, the panic was clear on his face.  


"Stop thinking," Enjolras said after a moment. "I can see you panicking, now stop," he ordered.  


"That's not a viable option, my dear Apollo, you might as well accept it," Grantaire smiled uneasily.  


There was a Christmas party, as there was every year. The semester was over for the holidays, and Les Amis gathered for a Christmas party every year before most of them went to visit their families.  
It was Jehan's turn to host the party, but regardless of the host, one thing was always the same. Alcohol.  


Jehan and Grantaire had met up one afternoon for tea at a hole in the wall café the two refused to share with anyone else. Jehan had poked and prodded at Grantaire for any information about him and Enjolras, and Grantaire wouldn't give him any good answers. Once Jehan had given up, he decided it was time to move the topic of discussion onto a more serious matter. "You're coming to the Christmas party, right?" Jehan asked hopefully. Grantaire smiled fondly at the poet, but there was ruefulness in his eyes. He had missed last years Christmas party in favor of Anton and his drugs.  


"Of course I am," Grantaire answered. Jehan lit up a little bit, but started fidgeting nervously as he spoke.  


"Okay, good. I've been meaning to talk to you about it anyway. I've already talked about it with everyone else, but I wanted to wait to talk to you personally. I don't want to put you into an uncomfortable situation, so I've been a little very stuck on the refreshments for the evening. Would you be more comfortable if there wasn't any alcohol there?" Jehan explained awkwardly. Grantaire laughed lightly.  


"My god, Prouvaire, I love you so much," Grantaire said on the laugh. "You can serve whatever you'd like. My inability to drink doesn't mean the rest of you can't. Be irresponsible. Get drunk, enjoy the lack of school related stress. I'll be just fine," he explained, sipping at his tea.  


"Are you sure?" Jehan asked.  


"Absolutely positive. I'm fully capable of handling myself, don't you fret," Grantaire teased.  


Grantaire couldn't afford to buy all of his friends gifts. He didn't have a job, and had mostly drained his savings account for drugs and alcohol. He spent a week before the party doing nothing but making things for his friends. He alternated between Combeferre's house and Enjolras' flat during the process. Enjolras enjoyed watching Grantaire absorb himself in his art. He didn't bother Grantaire, knowing the artist wouldn't really appreciate being distracted. But every once in a while, in passing, Enjolras would run a hand through the inky locks, or press a quick kiss to his head or the back of his neck, and Grantaire would glance up, looking at Enjolras like he still couldn't believe any of it was even happening. Then he would grin a small grin and continue his work.  


The short interruptions were returned, however, with less subtlety. Enjolras would be sitting on the couch studying or going over his plans near Grantaire, and Grantaire would lean over the arm of the couch and drop his weight onto Enjolras as best he could. He then trailed kisses up his shoulder and scattered them all over his face, before rolling off the couch and taking his place before his drawing or painting again.  


Grantaire was almost finished with the last piece. It was a drawing for Cosette he thought she might like. He scrutinized the piece for a long while, adding bits and pieces. Once he was finished, he shook his hands out before lifting his arms over his head. He stretched his back as far as he could, a loud, relieved groan escaping his lips as he did, the vertebrae popping. Enjolras, who had spent the last hour desperately trying not to fall asleep, looked up from his textbook as Grantaire stretched.  


"That's the last one?" he asked. Grantaire jumped at the sudden noise and looked at Enjolras in surprise.  


"You're still here," he stated half to himself. He shook his head a bit, regaining his bearings, and stood up, a few more joints popping in the process. "This is the last one," he assured, placing it gently into a folder before going to pull his shoes on. Enjolras rose a brow.  


"It's three in the morning, R," Enjolras said, shutting the textbook and standing up, approaching Grantaire. "You're covered in art, you look half dead, and your stomach has been screaming since this afternoon. You're taking a shower, I'm feeding you, and we're going to bed," he explained. Grantaire rolled his tired, strained eyes and grinned.  


"I guess that's fair enough," he said, planting a quick kiss to his cheek before heading to the bathroom. False confidence was his only weapon. He hadn't spent the night with Enjolras yet, and while he didn't expect anything but sleeping to happen, he was still incredibly nervous. He refused to feel bad for using mostly all of the hot water as he tried to calm his thoughts.  


Enjolras was not one for cooking. It was a known fact among Les Amis. But he could make a fantastic box of macaroni. Grantaire exited the bathroom, towel wrapped snug around his hips because he didn't have a clean change of clothes, to see Enjolras separating the contents of the pot into two bowls. Grantaire was too busy snickering to notice when Enjolras raked his eyes involuntarily over Grantaire's body. They ate quickly, both too tired to really make any conversation, before cleaning up the kitchen. Enjolras led Grantaire to his bedroom, which was just as neat and clean as the rest of the flat. He gave Grantaire a set of clothes to borrow for the night. The pair then got under the covers, and Enjolras really started to notice Grantaire's uneasiness.  


Grantaire had curled up on his side, facing away from Enjolras, his entire being set stiff. Enjolras slid a hand under the borrowed shirt and started gently running his fingers along Grantaire's back, trying to reassure the artist. He continued doing so until Grantaire relaxed, and his breathing evened out, before moving closer and wrapping his arm around Grantaire's waist loosely, falling asleep with his nose buried in the dark hair.  


Grantaire wasn't in the room when Enjolras woke up. He scrubbed a heavy hand over his face and got out of bed stiffly to wander around the flat in search of the artist. It wasn't a long search. Enjolras found Grantaire in the kitchen, hair wild and posture tired. He was leaning against the counter nursing a cup of coffee with a blank stare on his face. He wasn't a morning person. Neither was Enjolras. Grantaire didn't really acknowledge Enjolras, not with words anyway. With his free hand, he nudged a second mug across the counter and Enjolras took it, taking a sip. He could have died right then and there. Grantaire had prepared the cup perfectly, and Enjolras was baffled, and his stomach twisted in the best way, but his brain was too fuzzy for words. He sighed a large sigh and stepped in front of Grantaire, nuzzling his nose into his neck and inhaling. Grantaire grinned a small, tired grin when Enjolras lifted his head, and the pair continued their morning in hazy, comfortable silence.  


Combeferre was wrapping gifts in the front room when Grantaire got back home. Combeferre looked up at his friend over the rim of his glasses, noticing the clothes that definitely weren't Grantaire's, and grinned. "Did you have a nice night?" he asked. Grantaire grinned and shrugged, setting his bag on the coffee table and sitting on the floor next to Ferre.  


"It was nice. Quiet," he answered. "This is all just strange for me," he added.  


"Of course it is. Just let it be, don't worry yourself into running away from this," Combeferre shrugged. "Now go away, I don't want you to see your present until tonight." Grantaire chuckled and gathered his things to start preparing his own gifts to give at the party.  


Jehan and Courfeyrac shared a flat, and Courf helped the poet go all out for the occasion. There were lights and decorations and no shortage of fucking Christmas themed glitter. There was enough food to feed each one of Les Amis for at least a week, and copious amounts of alcohol. Jehan and Courfeyrac agreed it was going to be one hell of a Christmas party. Everyone started to arrive within minutes of each other, placing the gifts in the designated area before heading straight for the alcohol. Combeferre and Grantaire showed up last, and Grantaire spent several minutes in the present corner to set up each piece. He didn't even seem phased by the alcohol, not even three feet away, instead spotting Enjolras and rolling his eyes before making a beeline straight for the blond. Grantaire was good at distracting people. He was never subtle about it, choosing to go a shocking or uncomfortable route to get what he wanted.  


It was no different when it came to Enjolras. He approached Enjolras with a purpose, every step leaving his intentions completely obvious to everyone else, but his only goal was Enjolras' attention. In a graceful, almost feline set of movements, he had straddled Enjolras legs, one hand shutting the revolutionary's laptop as he arched his back just so and leaned in close, his free hand on Enjolras' collar. Enjolras stared up in shock as Grantaire smirked down at him, the cat calls bringing an even stronger blush to Enjolras' cheeks.  


"No battle plans tonight, Apollo," Grantaire purred. "This is a party, not an office," he added before licking Enjolras' cheek and hopping off of his lap, walking away as if nothing had even happened. Enjolras didn't touch the laptop for the remainder of the night.  


After Jehan had talked to everyone about the alcohol, nervousness had settled into the back of everyone's minds about how Grantaire would handle it. And as the evening wore on, that concern had completely dissipated. Grantaire was doing just fine. He laughed, loud and unabashed, and it was a beautiful sound. It was a sound all his friends hadn't even realized they missed until they heard it. He smiled brightly and it was contagious. He drank the fucking juice boxes Courfeyrac supplied and it was adorable. He danced, all hips and grace, singling Jehan out and making the poet blush. The entirety of Les Amis fell in love a little bit all over again.  


Grantaire had been talking to Joly, when a glance at Combeferre caught his attention. Combeferre was talking to Courfeyrac, but his line of sight kept being drawn toward Eponine distractedly. Grantaire put it together rather quickly and thought of a plan of action while Joly spoke. Eponine was making herself another drink when Grantaire slid up beside her, slinging an arm over her shoulder. "I hate to be so forward, but I'm just curious. You like Pontmercy so much but I don't know why," he started. Eponine glared, but grinned in amusement anyway. "Might I suggest something?" he asked.  


"Oh _great_ Grantaire, what is it you suggest?" Eponine asked, if only to humor him. He smiled devilishly and turned them around to face the room.  


"Open your eyes. Turn your attention elsewhere, and realize there is someone _much_ more deserving of your attention than Marius fucking Pontmercy, even if he is a giant puppy," he said lowly, walking as he spoke, and deposited Eponine strategically beside Combeferre before slipping away with a smirk and a wink.  


Gifts were exchanged before anyone was too drunk, and it was playful and loving as every year. And while everyone's gifts were special in their own way, Cosette's gift to Grantaire would have won the contest, had there been one. She didn't want to outright present it in front of everyone, so she waited until everyone was mostly distracted to do so.  


Grantaire was sitting on the couch with Enjolras, taking a break from the excitement to simply nuzzle his nose into the blond's shoulder and breathe him in. Even though he was comfortable and having fun, and even though he wouldn't trade anyone around him for anything else in the world, he needed to slow his brain down for a while. For whatever reason, Enjolras' scent seemed to center Grantaire when he was feeling overwhelmed. Enjolras never questioned it.  


Cosette planted herself into the empty space beside Grantaire and nudged his knee with hers. "My gift for you isn't really a thing you can hold. It's more of an offer, and you can decline if you don't want it. I won't be offended," she started. Grantaire lifted his head to listen more carefully. "Would you like to go back to school?" she asked forwardly. The soft grin on Grantaire's face fell, and Enjolras felt his body tense beside him.  


"I can't afford school, mon ami," Grantaire said quietly. Cosette grinned and laughed that light, pretty laugh of hers.  


"That wouldn't be an issue. My father has a very convenient and high position at the college. I can get him to pull some strings. If you really want to go back, he would like to talk to you. If you get a portfolio together to show him, and if you can prove you're willing to do the work, he can get you in. But, again, if you don't want this, you don't have to," Cosette explained.  


"I can't ask that of you, Cosette," Grantaire muttered.  


"You never asked," she shrugged casually.  


"What if I can't do it?"  


"You can. Don't argue with me on that, because I _know_ you can," she said. Grantaire sighed and his hand drifted up to tug at his curls. Enjolras lifted his own hand, pushing Grantaire's away to run his own fingers through the inky locks. Grantaire was quiet for a long moment, and when he looked back up at Cosette, he looked terrified and determined at the same time.  


"Okay," he whispered. Cosette smiled brightly, placing a hand on one of his cheeks as she leaned in to kiss the other.  


New Years came and went, with everyone making ridiculous resolutions they would never even want to accomplish, and school started back up again, and Grantaire almost had a nervous breakdown the day school started, but Jehan had time between classes that afternoon to show up unannounced at Grantaire's first class to sit with him. Grantaire loved Jehan.  


The protest was coming up, and Enjolras seemed ready to explode from excitement- and probably nervousness that he would never admit to. He had all of his friends passing out pamphlets and making as much noise about it as they possibly could in the days leading up to it.  


And then it was the day, and everyone was buzzing from nerves and eagerness. Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Enjolras piled into the same car, and Grantaire sat in the back seat next to Enjolras quietly. His hand was resting on Enjolras' knee, tapping out a gentle rhythm as the rest of them talked excitedly.  


The amount of people at the protest baffled Enjolras a little bit, and he looked ready to explode. He was excited, and passionate, and angry. A makeshift podium was set up, and Enjolras stood above the crowd with Courfeyrac and Combeferre on either side of him. The rest of Les Amis stood before them on the ground, as close as they could, watching him scream and shout. The same fire that burned in his eyes burned in all of his friends, and their voices rose over all of those in the audience.  


"We can no longer live in fear and silence under our government," Enjolras shouted. "We can no longer live in fear from those who have sworn to protect us. Our government has fed us nothing but lies, and it is time for the injustice to stop. They turn their heads as more and more of our people are _suffering_. What have they done to help those who are starving? For those who's only solace is a worn out coat and a poor excuse for a meal? What have they done for _children_ , for those who grew up angry and alone?"  


Grantaire was surprised to hear his own voice joining the fray, raw and furious. Eponine, who had been standing next to Grantaire, grabbed his hand and thrust their joined fists into the air. She and Grantaire, though they were never the closest friends, had an understanding of each other that the others would never fully know. They had known it the moment that they met. They were the kids that grew up angry and alone. Gavroche was screaming alongside his sister. Eponine had done as well as she could to give him the childhood she never had, but Gavroche was incredibly smart for his age. He was livid on his sisters behalf.  


"We _need_ to be heard. We need to fight for our rights, and for the rights of those too young to fight for themselves. We need to fight for those who have no voice. We have been silenced long enough, we have lived in fear long enough. It is time to _make a change_ ," Enjolras continued, and he was beautiful. Grantaire almost couldn't take his eyes off of his Apollo, but Combeferre caught his attention.  


The police in the back of the crowd had gone ignored since the beginning of the protest. They were only there as a precaution, and they had looked just as mesmerized by Enjolras furious speech as the rest of the crowd up until then. Grantaire saw Combeferre tense up beside Enjolras, and quickly tore his eyes away to follow Combeferre's line of sight. Someone in the crowd had gotten a little too angry, most likely, and the police were moving in, and everything was thrown into chaos in an instant. Grantaire jumped into action as soon as Combeferre started moving, and grabbed Eponine's arm.  


"Get Gav out of here, _now_ ," he shouted over all the noise, and Eponine didn't question it. Gavroche was the youngest, and the main priority. Grantaire spotted Courfeyrac trying to get Jehan out of danger, but his frantic words and tugs weren't enough. Grantaire swooped in and practically threw the stubborn poet over his shoulder before grabbing Courf's arm and dragging him to the outskirts. Cosette was doing fine on her own, guarding Marius. He knew it was useless to even try to remove the two of them from the commotion, because they would have both just jumped right back in. Joly and Bossuet were tucked into a corner trying to protect each other while still remaining where they wanted to be. Bahorel was having the time of his life grappling with officers. He wasn't getting arrested, everyone knew he would get away just fine, as he fucking always did. Combeferre was nowhere to be seen, but Grantaire was quickly distracted from that thought as he saw Enjolras struggling and shouting and looking beautiful and vicious all at once.  


He was screaming, but he wouldn't fight because he knew fighting would get him in trouble. But the moment Grantaire saw an officer go way out of line to bring that stupid black stick down over Enjolras' head, Grantaire stopped hearing anything and started seeing red. He sprinted the distance to Enjolras and was barreling into the officers before he really even thought about it. But even if he had thought about it beforehand, he would still have done it.  


Grantaire punched the officer that had hit Enjolras right in the face, and Enjolras was no longer their problem. Grantaire fought tooth and nail as Enjolras was forgotten by the officers in favor of taking him down instead. He did some damage, but ultimately got the shit kicked out of him before ending up pepper sprayed with his face on the asphalt, hands zip tied behind his back. Throughout the struggle, he had seen Combeferre appear out of nowhere with his arms tightly around Enjolras' waist, dragging him away as the blond struggled and screamed at Grantaire, and Grantaire fucking loved Combeferre for having his priorities.  


Les Amis had planned in case something had gone wrong, and eventually they were all sitting in a bar a few streets away. They were all flustered and excited and scared, and only a few of them were banged up, and Jehan was curled up into Courf on the bench they shared. Combeferre was still basically dragging Enjolras when they finally entered the bar, and they all perked up.  


"Where's Grantaire?" someone asked. Combeferre didn't bother finding out who, he was too busy panicking to himself and trying to watch Enjolras to make sure he didn't so something stupid.  


"He's gotten himself arrested," he answered, voice tight. The group quieted down significantly at that. "I need to go and get this all sorted out."  


"I'm going with you," Enjolras bit out and Combeferre gave him a pointed glare.  


"No, you're not, because I know you're going to do something stupid if I take you," Ferre countered.  


"He fucking got _arrested_ because of me. You can't tell me I'm not going, because I am," Enjolras growled, a glare equally as intimidating on his own face. Les Amis watched the scene unfold nervously. "You don't get to make that choice for me," Enjolras added, anger dripping from his voice. Combeferre was quiet for a long moment, and they just stared coldly at each other. The others could almost feel the angry tension between them.  


"I won't hesitate to do something brash," he warned. Enjolras acknowledged his words and the pair left the bar.  


Once they got to the police station, they exchanged a few more harsh words before heading inside. Grantaire was in the holding cell with a few more of the protesters, his eyes shut as he tried to ignore his splitting headache. Combeferre went to demand answers, and Enjolras left him to stride right up to the bars. "R," Enjolras called out. Grantaire perked up and opened his eyes as best he could, still irritated from the spray. He grinned, ignoring the sting of his split lip.  


"Have you come to rescue me?" he asked from across the space.  


"Don't be a smartass right now," Enjolras said, his voice more calm than he felt. "What the fuck were you thinking?"  


"That fucking cop had _no_ right to hit you like that. It was _way_ out of line, you hadn't done anything wrong," Grantaire snipped, his anger rising again. Enjolras sighed.  


"Combeferre is trying to get this sorted out. I'm going to see what's going on. Just stay there," he said before turning away.  


"No, I'll wait for you _outside_ , Apollo," Grantaire called after him dryly. Enjolras ignored it.  


"There was footage of it all happening, we've got someone going over it right now. If it happened the way he said it did, then we can release him free of charge. We've had problems with the officer he described before, so no one is doubting your friend. It's just protocol," the woman at the desk was explaining to Combeferre. "Have a seat, and we'll probably release your friend shortly," she added. Combeferre grabbed Enjolras by the elbow and lead him over to the waiting area.  


As time wore on, Enjolras was growing more agitated and antsy, and Combeferre could only try to keep him calm. Enjolras was on his feet as soon as he saw Grantaire being lead out of the holding cell. Combeferre stood to get some paperwork settled and gave the pair a moment alone. Enjolras was in front of Grantaire, looking angry and worried, and he had his hands on Grantaire's face lightly, looking over the damage. Then he kissed him lightly, trying to avoid hurting his split lip.  


"You're such a fucking idiot," he said a bit breathlessly. Grantaire laughed against his lips and placed his hands on Enjolras' waist.  


"Well, for whatever reason, you like it," he said, earning a small smile. Combeferre cleared his throat, catching their attentions.  


"I'm taking you two home. You'll probably have the house to yourselves tonight, the others want to celebrate and someone should look after them," he said. He didn't act uncomfortable, but he did drive a little too fast to get out of the situation as soon as possible. Once they got inside, Enjolras grabbed Grantaire's hand and lead him to the bathroom. Grantaire was quiet, already too aware of the warm, heavy air between them, and how quiet Combeferre's house was.  


He let Enjolras clean him up, watching him in wonder. Enjolras was standing closer than necessary as he gently scrubbed blood and dirt off of Grantaire's face. Grantaire still couldn't quite wrap his mind around the fact that Enjolras was there because he wanted to be there. He didn't know if he would ever be able to accept it. Enjolras grinned at him, small and soft, after he was finished wiping Grantaire's face clean. And the next thing Grantaire knew, he had his hands braced on the counter behind him, trying to keep his balance as Enjolras slotted their bodies together.  


Grantaire gripped the counter, Enjolras gripped Grantaire's middle, and the pair kissed, soft and slow and somehow almost filthy. Enjolras broke the kiss after a long moment, only to hear Grantaire gasp for breath. He started pressing kisses down Grantaire's jaw and neck, and Grantaire could do nothing but hold onto the counter with white knuckles. Enjolras lifted his head when he noticed that Grantaire was nearly hyperventilating.  


"Are you okay?" Enjolras asked, rubbing a comforting hand up and down Grantaire's side. Grantaire swallowed heavily and nodded quickly. "We can stop," Enjolras said softly.  


" _No_ ," Grantaire said breathlessly. "No, I've wanted this for an embarrassingly long time. You just might have to talk me through it," he said, laughing nervously as his face started turning red. Enjolras grinned softly before leaning in again to kiss Grantaire.  


Grantaire ended up with his hands wound tight in the collar of Enjolras sweater, as their kissing grew more desperate. Somehow, their coats had gotten discarded onto the bathroom floor, and Enjolras' hands were just under the hem of Grantaire's sweater, fingers cold against his hips. Enjolras was nipping at the skin just under Grantaire's ear, and he shifted to press himself impossibly closer to the artist. A quiet, involuntary moan escaped Grantaire's lips, and with what little space he had, his hips pressed right back.  


"Bedroom," Grantaire breathed into Enjolras' hair, and the two separated themselves reluctantly. Grantaire fumbled with his doorknob with shaky hands, and as soon as they were in, Grantaire was on his back on the bed, Enjolras settled between his legs. Deft hands made quick work of ridding the two of their shirts, and Grantaire was helpless to do anything when Enjolras started planting his lips on any bare skin he could. Enjolras, the stupid fucking tease, pressed wet kisses down Grantaire's navel, licking a stripe up the thin trail of hair and grinning at the airy whine that slipped past Grantaire's lips. He surged back up and placed a filthy kiss to Grantaire's mouth, grinding his hips down at the same time and swallowing the moan it elicited.  


Grantaire was going to die, he just knew it. Enjolras had a plan, it wasn't hard to figure that out. He was in control, giving Grantaire attention he definitely wasn't used to. Grantaire knew roughness. He knew sex that bordered on violent, where the only thing he got out of it was a distraction, a bruise or ten, and his next high. When it came to hands almost reverently running along his skin, and lips soft and attentive against his chest and stomach, he was completely and utterly lost. Grantaire had never had that. No one had ever looked at him the same way he looked at art, but there Enjolras was above him, eyes taking in every last bit of Grantaire. It made Grantaire feel incredibly vulnerable. Enjolras bent closer and placed a soft kiss to his lips, grinning.  


"You're incredible," he muttered, tracing his fingers along Grantaire's jaw.  


"Oh god," Grantaire gasped out, shutting his eyes and turning his head away. He couldn't listen to that. Enjolras took hold of Grantaire's jaw then, and forced his attention back where he wanted it.  


"Look at me," Enjolras whispered. Grantaire obeyed. He could do nothing but obey. "You're smart," Enjolras continued, the same hand lightly running from his jaw to his neck and collar. It was definitely not what Grantaire had meant by talking him through it. But then again, he didn't really know what to expect at that confession anyway.  


"You're kind." His chest.  


"You're brave." His stomach.  


"You're strong." His hips.  


"You're loving." A finger traced along the space between skin and jeans. Grantaire shivered and forced himself to keep breathing. The finger paused at the button of his jeans, and suddenly the button was undone. Enjolras' fingers were still cold.  


"You're absolutely fucking beautiful. In so many ways, you are so, _so_ beautiful."

Grantaire gasped as those cold, perfect fingers wrapped around him. His own hand found Enjolras' forearm and he held on tightly. Enjolras stroked him slowly, watching as Grantaire tried to be as still and quiet as possible. He smiled languidly and leaned forward.  


"I've got you," he muttered against Grantaire's lips. "You can make noise," he added, not even trying to hide his amusement.  


"Fuck off," Grantaire grit out in a shaky voice, before his back suddenly arched and his head tilted back, an almost obscene moan tearing from him with a particularly pleasant flick of Enjolras' wrist.  


" _There_ you go," Enjolras teased.  


"Seriously, fuck off, how- _Jesus Christ_ \- how are you so good at this, stop being good at everything under the god damned _sun_ , I hate you so much," Grantaire babbled out, his coherency quickly failing him, and Enjolras just laughed above him. Grantaire knew he wasn't going to last long, if things kept up as they were. And they kept up. Enjolras never ceased the slow, steady rhythm, and he ran tongue and teeth over Grantaire's skin, enjoying every moan, every gasp, every movement as Grantaire shifted under his touch.  


Grantaire came without any time to warn his Apollo. He came with a loud mixture between a moan and a shout, the sound cut off halfway. Enjolras watched the look on Grantaire's face- a lax, dazed expression- and it was adorable. Enjolras could have sworn Grantaire's half shut eyes crossed a little. He made a mental note to watch closer next time.  


Grantaire was left breathing heavily, but his breathing hitched when Enjolras dipped down to lick up the mess on Grantaire's stomach. Grantaire could only watch in shock, and when Enjolras lifted his head, Grantaire pulled him up to place a hard kiss to his lips, biting at his lower lip. Grantaire set to work wordlessly. If Enjolras could plan, then so could he. Even if the only plan he could make consisted of _Enjolras Enjolras Enjolras_. It took little effort to get the blond on his back, and he spent the next several moments worshiping Enjolras' skin with his hands, his tongue, his teeth.  


"Grantaire-"  


"Unless my decision to return the favor truly bothers you, Apollo, then shut up," the artist interrupted with a smirk, already knowing what Enjolras was going to say. "As I said before, I've wanted this for a very long time. I want as much of you as I can have for as long as you'll allow it," he explained as he undid Enjolras' own jeans, tugging them down to the knees. He pressed an agonizingly slow line of kisses down Enjolras' chest, sneaky hands working the blond's underwear off at the same time. Grantaire could tease, too. When he was close, he dipped his head lower and gently bit at the skin of Enjolras' thigh, smiling at the frustrated whine he received in response.  


And without warning, he wrapped his hand around the base and took as much of Enjolras into his mouth as he could. Enjolras fucking yelped, and a hand flew into Grantaire's hair, fingers twisting securely into the dark locks. Enjolras' hips twitched, and his grip in Grantaire's hair alternated uncertainly, and Grantaire rolled his eyes before pulling his mouth away.  


"I'm not fragile, Apollo," he said fondly, his voice rough and low. "You won't break me. And just pull my fucking hair like you so desperately want to, I actually really like it," he added teasingly before continuing where he left off.  


It was only a matter of minutes before Enjolras choked out a quick warning. Grantaire kept his lips wrapped around Enjolras as he came, and swallowed. Once Enjolras' body relaxed, Grantaire pulled off with a pop and sat up, smiling at the revolutionary lazily. Enjolras let out an incredibly dorky giggle and reached out to pull Grantaire down next to him. They just laid there quietly for a long moment before Grantaire yawned.  


"Sleep?" Enjolras said with a fond smile.  


"Sleep," Grantaire agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, chapter seven. It's been a while, apologies. I hope you like it!


	8. Huit.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family Matters?
> 
>  
> 
> **Also, there is slightly descriptive mention of R's alley incident, beware**

Things went from normal to terrifying in a matter of seconds. Enjolras was in the middle of a heated discussion with Courfeyrac and Combeferre, everyone either listening or having their own conversations on the side. Grantaire was smiling smugly to himself after a particularly well placed jab he aimed at Enjolras. His eyes wandered to the window at the front of the café, and his amusement was replaced with sudden, abject horror.  


"No no no no you LITTLE FUCKING IDIOT," he was suddenly screaming as he shot out of his seat and flew outside as fast as he could. Enjolras' blood went cold when Grantaire didn't even fucking hesitate to sprint out into the busy afternoon street, and he wasn't the only one suddenly terrified for the artists life, if the gasps and rising voices were anything to go by. Enjolras and Combeferre were the next outside, followed by the rest of Les Amis, just in time to see Grantaire basically somersaulting to a halt right in front of an oncoming car on the other side of the road. Tires screeched, a horn blared, Grantaire flinched, and Combeferre and Enjolras were running at him.  


The car stopped not even a foot away as Grantaire uselessly shielded his head and whatever was in his lap.  


"Get him," Combeferre snapped once the shocked silence subsided. Enjolras, equally as angry, grabbed Grantaire by the back of his coat and yanked him to his feet as Combeferre went to settle things with the driver. Once safely back in front of the café, Enjolras spun Grantaire around furiously to face him. The dark haired man had lost almost all of the color in his face and looked very close to being sick.  


"What the fuck were you doing?!" Enjolras shouted furiously. Grantaire swallowed hard several times before attempting to form any coherent words.  


"Um," he choked out before shifting his arms. They were tucked into his chest, but once he moved, Enjolras looked blankly down at the little black and white thing he was holding. He stared at the kitten- the poor thing looked as terrified as Grantaire- for a long moment before looking back up at Grantaire and sighing heavily. He was at a loss of words.  


"I suppose you'll need a litter box, then," he finally settled on saying, not knowing whether to strangle Grantaire or kiss him stupid. Grantaire laughed a shaky laugh and tucked the kitten protectively back into his chest.  


"I suppose you're right," he said. Combeferre had returned to see just enough, and sighed a long suffering sigh before stalking back inside.  


The kitten was a wobbly, noisy little thing, and Grantaire accepted the fact that he was ridiculously attached to her before the end of that first day. After only a few hours of being in Grantaire's care, the kitten had gotten into his paints and trailed little blue paw prints all over his bedroom floor, and he promptly named the little girl Bleu.  


He managed to get a job with a little bit of charm and a Jehan Prouvaire, to pay for the cats expenses. Combeferre was happy for his best friend when he found out about Grantaire's new job. Grantaire had spent so long falling deeper and deeper into himself, and seeing him try to make a better life made Combeferre smile.  


Grantaire smiled a lot more, and his laugh could often be heard over any of the others. He actually put himself into conversations rather than waiting to speak when an argument presented itself. Of course, he still argued any time he got the chance. That was just Grantaire. He was also incredibly observant sober, even if it looked like he wasn't paying attention. Sometimes Combeferre hated that.  


Grantaire walked into the house after closing at the coffee shop one night, and he tossed his bag into a corner to sprawl himself on the couch next to Combeferre in order to get his attention. When Ferre looked up from his notes, Grantaire was watching him expectantly. "Are you going to ask 'Ponine out or are you just going to stare at her over your books forever?" he asked, scooping Bleu off of the floor as she wandered by and placing her on his belly.  


"What are you talking about?" Combeferre asked. Grantaire gave him an unimpressed look.  


"Really? You're brilliant and all, mon ami but when have you ever been able to trick me? I know you like her. Just ask her out," he said.  


"Bad idea," Ferre countered.  


" _Good_ idea," Grantaire shot back, sitting up to face Combeferre properly. "Since when have I had to be the voice of reason? Ask her out, go on date, she realizes you're much more worth her time than Pontmercy, you both fall in love, and possibly become the most terrifying couple in all the world. That's exactly how it's going to go, so please do it," he listed each point off on his fingers. Combeferre laughed lightly.  


"You're ridiculous," he said as Grantaire scooped up his cat and stood.  


"Yet, for some godawful reason, you love me anyway," he said, placing a loud kiss to the top of Combeferre's head. "Bleu and I are going to bed. Enjolras and I are getting breakfast too early in the morning and then I've got a big philosophical debate to destroy in class. Goodnight, mon ami," he explained over his shoulder.  


"Grantaire," Combeferre called out before the artist could disappear into his room. Grantaire poked his head back around the end of the hallway. "I'm proud of you," Ferre said. Grantaire froze for a moment before a soft grin tugged at his lips. He nodded his head once and turned back around. Combeferre just smiled to himself and went back to studying.  


It really was quite the spectacle, the debate in Grantaire's philosophy class. Combeferre had a while between his own classes and chose to sit in on Grantaire's. The artist was having the time of his life. He was quick in picking apart arguments and hypothetical situations and theories and everything anyone dared to throw at him.  


The students he fought could only stare at him with expressions somewhere between frustration and respect by the time he was finished with them. The classroom was his for the entire period, and Combeferre wasn't surprised in the slightest. Despite the frustration Grantaire provoked from his classmates, no one left on bad terms, and two even shook his hand. With words, Grantaire was graceful, charming, and a fucking _murderer_.  


So naturally, Combeferre had covertly recorded clips on his phone and sent them to everyone. Grantaire would have been angry if it hadn't gotten him in Enjolras' bed.  


All in all, Grantaire could say he was happy. Very happy. But of course, the state of bliss he let himself be in for a while couldn't last.  


_i'm at work and i'm freaking out please help_  


_Don't do anything stupid, I'll be there soon._  


Cosette burst through the door not even ten minutes later, prepared to explain herself or strike down anyone who got in her way. She didn't have to do either.  


"You better be here for Grantaire," the girl on the other side of the counter said, sounding more bored than anything else. "He's been cleaning the same mug for five fucking minutes. Don't think he realizes it."  


"Can you bring him out here, please?" Cosette asked with a smile, trying to sound polite rather than worried (and irritated about this girls complete lack of Grantaire related compassion. Who in their right mind wouldn't care about this boys feelings, seriously?). The girl disappeared for a moment before pushing Grantaire through the door. He stood tensely on the other side of the counter, and his words seemed to be stuck in his throat. Cosette gestured for him to come out from behind the counter. Once he was standing directly before her, she smiled warmly.  


"Whatever's going on, you should know I love you," she said, and her voice grounded him, just a little. He nodded, prodding her to continue, and she guided him to a stool as she spoke. "If you can use your words, then tell me what's going through your head. If you can't, do it anyway."  


Grantaire took a shaky breath. Then another. "I don't know what's going on, but the bottom hasn't fallen out yet," he stuttered.  


"What do you mean, mon cherí?" Cosette asked.  


"Just... Things are going well. Like, fantastic. I'm doing well in school so far, I've got a job somehow. And whatever this thing is with Enjolras is great, but I'm _terrified_. I keep waiting for the world to right itself again, but it hasn't happened yet and I don't fucking understand. This isn't how things go," he explained.  


"It's about time for a change then, isn't it? I don't know much, but I know you've been dealt some shitty cards in your life. Is it so bad that you've finally got a good hand? I'm going to tell you, things definitely aren't going to be perfect forever, and you know that. School gets tough, work gets shitty, and couples get angry. But you can't just focus on the bad things. If you focus on bad things, you're going to miss out on all the good. So just let it be. I'll be here for it all, there's no getting rid of me at this point. I'll defend you and call you out on your shit until my dying day," she explained. Grantaire sighed and glumly rested his chin in his hand.  


"What happened, anyway?" Cosette asked.  


"He smiled at me," Grantaire answered. Cosette could imagine it. Grantaire was just being himself, and it made Enjolras smile, and Grantaire actually saw it for what it was and panicked.  


"I'm assuming you just freaked out and left without giving him an explanation?" she guessed. Grantaire slumped in his seat and heaved a large sigh.  


"That's exactly what I did," he said dejectedly. Cosette laughed.  


"He's probably sitting in his flat breaking blood vessels, trying to understand what he did wrong," she said, shaking her head fondly. "Go back over there when you get off work and talk to him. Seriously, the two of you are ridiculous and I love it," she added.  


"But. Words. I'm not good with words, Cosette," he argued weakly. She scoffed.  


"Bullshit. I have proof that you are, thanks to Combeferre. Finish your shift and get your ass back to E's flat," she said, standing up and kissing him on the forehead. She then placed a hand on his cheek and smiled softly at him, running a thumb across his cheekbone. "It's okay for people to care about you. I'm glad you're finally starting to see it."  


There was a tentative knock at Enjolras' door, and he rushed to open it. Grantaire stood on the other side, fist still raised. The look on his face was much the same as it was when he practically ran out earlier; irrationally scared. "Do you want to come in?" Enjolras asked awkwardly, not quite knowing what else to do. Grantaire nodded, and walked inside with fingers tucked into his hair. Enjolras desperately wanted to replace those fingers with his own, to run his fingers through the soft, always knotted dark curls, but he stayed put until he could find out what Grantaire needed.  


"I'm sorry for running out earlier," Grantaire said tightly.  


"It's okay," Enjolras said. Grantaire huffed.  


"It's not though, is it," he countered bitterly. "I think an explanation is in order, if you want to understand like you say you do."  


"Grantaire, you don't owe me anything-"  


"You give me your time and affection and all that shit, and I haven't given you much of anything but a headache, Enjolras. I want to talk about this now," Grantaire said, voice firm.  


"Can we at least sit down?" Enjolras asked, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. Grantaire nodded and stalked over to the couch, sitting down and watching Enjolras with wide eyes as he sat down next to him. Grantaire let out a breath. His hands were shaking, and he was shrinking in on himself, and Enjolras really just wanted to touch him and make him feel better, but he could almost see the figurative spikes protruding from his being. _Do not touch do not touch do not touch._  


"Okay," Grantaire muttered. "I didn't have a very... normal childhood. I wasn't a very nurtured kid, you know that much. My parents weren't exactly deserving of any awards. I can't exactly remember a time where I was given affection, growing up. My sister tried. For a while, she tried, but she ran as soon as she got the chance. She just couldn't do it anymore. But I had trusted her. I told her once, that if she found a way out I wanted to go with her, but one day I woke up and she was just gone. I didn't trust anyone after that until Combeferre came along, and even then it took him a while to earn that. Enjolras, you have to accept the fact that I am going to be fucked up forever. I spent my childhood being treated like less than a person, not deserving anything remotely good. I'm going to carry that mindset with me my entire life, and I'm going to try and run away from anything I don't deserve. I don't think it's something I can change," Grantaire explained. Enjolras was quiet for a long moment, running it all over in his mind before looking up.  


He ignored everything telling him not to touch, and lifted a hand, running it through Grantaire's hair and smiling softly as he caught the mans eye. "If you run, I'm just going to chase you next time," he said. Grantaire let out a watery laugh and relaxed a little.  


"Jesus, why are you always so fucking cheesy? You'll get sick of chasing me, sooner or later," he warned sadly. Enjolras leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth.  


"When have you ever seen me give up on something I care about?" Enjolras asked. Grantaire tensed a bit.  


"This is different. It's me. I'm not your cause, I'm not as strong as everyone else you surround yourself with. I'm just Grantaire, you should know a wasted effort when you see one," Grantaire explained, his tone of voice betraying the indifference on his face. Enjolras sighed.  


"We said we were going to try," Enjolras said tightly, trying his damnedest to be patient. "I fully intend on keeping my word. I care about you a lot, Grantaire, I think it should be more than a little glaringly obvious that I care. I understand you're not accustomed to all of this, but I'm begging you to trust me. Please just trust me," he explained, and the desperation was very much there. Grantaire couldn't have mistaken it for anything else. He sat quietly for a long moment, chewing on his lip. Eventually, he straightened up a bit and took a breath, meeting Enjolras' eyes.  


"You need a warning bell if you ever plan on smiling at me like you did again. I'm like a rabbit spooked by genuine affection," he finally said, trying to push down nervousness in favor of humor. Enjolras snorted, an incredulous grin on his face.  


"Is that what I did? I smiled at you?" he asked. Grantaire groaned and tried to hide his reddening face behind his hands.  


"Yes, okay? Shut up," he muttered into his hands, peeking out from between his fingers. Enjolras just rolled his eyes and smiled again, that same fucking smile as earlier, and Grantaire could have cried a little.  


It was too early to be alive, but Grantaire had a test to take. He was in the café on campus getting a cup of coffee before heading off to class. He was just about to head out the door when a body was suddenly in his way. He looked up at the person groggily to mutter an apology, but stopped in his tracks. The girl was terrifyingly beautiful, tall, with smooth brown skin, a bridge of freckles across her nose. She had thick, dark wavy hair, and amber eyes set in an intense gaze directly on Grantaire, and it made him nervous. Her eyes were full of the same passionate fire as Enjolras'.  


"Um. Hello," he stammered, helpless to do much else.  


"Hi. My name is Musichetta, can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked, with a voice like honey and whiskey. Grantaire fumbled with his phone to check the time.  


"Yeah, sure. I've got to get to class though, you can walk with me if you want?" he answered dumbly. She smiled, revealing a set of perfect teeth behind her full lips, silver caps on each bottom canine.  


"Great," she said, following Grantaire outside and falling into step with him. "Okay, I'm _so_ glad I caught you. I went to the protest a while back, and I've been meaning to try and track you and your friends down ever since then. You guys are incredibly hard to find, I'm so glad I finally found one of you. I have loads of questions," Musichetta explained excitedly. Grantaire snorted and looked up at her with a crooked grin.  


"I'm really the wrong person to be asking, then," he said, taking a hefty swallow of his coffee. "You'll probably want to ask literally anyone else in Les Amis."  


"Well in that case, introduce me," she shrugged casually, passing through the door Grantaire opened. He walked in behind her, humming thoughtfully.  


"There's actually a meeting this evening," he said. "I'll bring you, if you've got time to go?" he suggested. She shot him another award winning smile.  


"Dude, _yes_ ," she exclaimed, pulling out her phone. "Can we trade numbers?"  


Evening came, and Grantaire was texting Musichetta as he looked for Combeferre. He was in the kitchen, staring dejectedly into the fridge. "Hey," Grantaire chimed. Combeferre turned his gaze to him. "I'll meet you at the Musain, okay? I have to do something first," he said, leaning in the archway. Combeferre raised a brow, slightly confused.  


"Okay. Try not to be late," he said, before sighing and giving up on the fridge.  


"Wouldn't dream of it," Grantaire said with a grin. It was a relatively short walk to the meeting place, and Grantaire was just as struck by her beauty as he was that morning. Possibly even more so. The evening sun made her skin glow, and she was fire personified. She smiled brightly when she saw him, and he returned it with an awkward wave.  


"It's not a far walk from here," he said with a vague gesture in the general direction of the Musain. She was talking as they walked, filling him in on her day as if they had been friends for ages, and he found himself suddenly caught in a passionate but good-natured debate about different styles of art. Although it wasn't much of a debate. If anything, they tried to understand what the other was saying over the sounds of laughter. The debate carried them all the way to the café, and right through the doors.  


"I mean, of all the weird fucking art styles there are, you can't tell me poop art isn't one of the most bizarre. Actually I think it is the most bizarre, in the grand scheme of things," Musichetta was saying, matter-of-fact, and Grantaire was laughing and nodding vigorously, unable to form the words to agree with her.  


"What the fuck is poop art and where can I find this magnificent and disgusting thing?" they heard Courfeyrac exclaim. Grantaire tried to contain his laughter and speak.  


"No, Courf. You can't see it, you'll just show Jehan and take away whatever innocence you've left him with. I won't have it," Grantaire exclaimed dramatically, sticking his tongue out as Courf pouted.  


"What makes you think I haven't already seen it," Jehan muttered with a smirk in Grantaire's direction. Grantaire wasn't really all that surprised. Of course Jehan would have known.  


He then turned his gaze to Enjolras, who was looking between him and Musichetta curiously. Grantaire gestured for the girl to follow him, noticing the way the rest of Les Amis were gawking, probably just like he was that morning. He fleetingly wondered how used to it Musichetta was. He came to a halt beside Enjolras, biting his shoulder gently in greeting. Enjolras couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why the artist did that in lieu of a kiss. But Enjolras loved it, and couldn't help but grin every time.  


"Enjolras, this is Musichetta. I met her this morning and you two are going to get along famously," he said, patting Enjolras on the back before leaving them be. It wasn't lost on Grantaire to notice the way both Joly and Bossuet had misplaced any amount of motor skills upon seeing her. He had a feeling that was going to turn into one hell of a situation. From Grantaire's spot in the back, he watched as Musichetta took no time at all to ingrain herself into Les Amis.  


Grantaire had gotten off of work late, and he was picking up a pack of cigarettes on his way home. It had been a good day. Mostly any day that started off waking up with Enjolras snoring and drooling on Grantaire's arm was the start of a good day.  


He made some small talk with the cashier about the steadily warming weather before heading out, and as soon as he stepped back outside, any good thing about his mood came crashing down. Anton was walking toward the building, and Grantaire had nowhere to go. He had already been spotted. An almost angry, very predatory smile formed on Anton's lips and he was approaching Grantaire, and Grantaire couldn't fucking move.  


"Taire?" Grantaire vaguely heard Anton speaking. His blood had run cold and his hands were shaking and he couldn't breathe right. He needed to get away. "Taire, we haven't met up in a while. You should come back to mine-"  


"No," Grantaire choked out. It was the only thing he could say. Anton's stupid fucking face, and his stupid fucking voice, and the smell of his cheap fucking cologne threw Grantaire's brain back into that whole mess leading up to a dirty alley between buildings. He couldn't shake it, remembering being too fucked up to get away fast enough, remembering all the fucking pain, all his useless screaming and sobbing as he was beaten and violated. The feel of the dirt and gravel against his skin as he was left bleeding and naked and wishing he was dead.  


He was aware he was breathing hard and shallow, that he probably looked fucking crazy, but he couldn't stop as he was flooded with those memories he tried so, so hard to bury. Anton was still talking, something about how Grantaire owed him for one thing or another, niceties poorly concealing the actual threat. And suddenly Anton was tugging on Grantaire's arm, and Grantaire's fight or flight instinct _finally fucking kicked in_ , because his fist connected with Anton's nose, and there was a sharp crack, and there was blood, and Anton let go and Grantaire was fucking running.  


He ran all the way home, ignoring the burning it caused in his entire body. His brain was short circuiting so badly he couldn't get the door unlocked, so he started banging on the door, hoping his legs would hold just a little longer. "Combeferre, _open the fucking door_ ," he screamed desperately, voice ragged. The door flew open after a moment and Combeferre was there looking baffled, trying to contain his own fear. A short moment passed as they stared at each other, Grantaire shaking and sweating and pale, eyes stinging. He vaguely noticed Enjolras standing stiff and wide eyed off to the side, but he couldn't focus. Everything was spinning. Grantaire tried to take a step forward, and his legs finally buckled, but Combeferre caught him before he could hit the floor, and pulled him up, arm around his waist as he dragged him inside.  


"E, go get me a bottle of water, please," Ferre said, voice collected as ever. Enjolras stiffly jumped into action. "You need to sit before you fall down, can you do that for me?" Ferre said, attention back on R. Very carefully, he led Grantaire over to the couch, depositing him there and sitting down next to him.  


Enjolras returned and handed the bottle to Combeferre. The bespectacled man took it without looking away from Grantaire. He scooted closer to his friend, pressing the cold bottle gently to the side of his neck. "R, it's okay. You're home, you're safe, and I'm right here," he started, transferring the bottle to the other side after a moment, free hand resting on Grantaire's cheek. "I've got you, okay? I'm not going anywhere."  


He continued speaking, soft and comforting, attempting to draw Grantaire back out with the coolness of the water. His free hand drifted from Grantaire's cheek to his hand, and Grantaire latched on, his breathing more harsh. "It's not," he said, voice high and shaky. It was clear he wasn't really seeing anything as he spoke, his eyes lost in some kind of nightmare. He continued rattling off words as Combeferre tried to shush him. "It's not okay, I'm not- it won't stop. It won't get out of my head, they fucked me up and I can't get it out." His voice rose, and tears welled and Enjolras had never seen him so disturbed. Combeferre needed to get the story out of Grantaire while he was still talking, before he could shut himself down and bury everything in himself.  


"What happened?" Ferre asked quietly, running his thumb over the slightly bruising knuckles.  


"I couldn't stop it," Grantaire choked out, pulling his knees harshly up to his chest. "I couldn't get away, I'm fucking stupid- and it hurt, it hurt so much, both of them, they just- _fuck_." He yanked his hand away from Combeferre, pushed himself as far away as he could. And he fucking sobbed. It was loud, and it was painful. It was broken. Combeferre froze as the realization dawned on him. A quick glance at Enjolras told him he wasn't the only one to put it together.  


"Oh, Grantaire," Combeferre whispered, in shock. After a short moment, he gently pulled Grantaire away from the corner of the couch and wrapped himself around him, settling his chin on the head of dark curls as he babbled something about Anton and broken noses between gasps. Enjolras had never seen Combeferre cry. But as he held on to his best friend, silent tears slipped past his glasses and down his cheeks, and Enjolras didn't know what to do. He was livid, and heart broken, and a million other things. He wanted nothing more than to comfort Grantaire, to be where Combeferre was, but he knew it was something he couldn't interfere with. Grantaire needed Combeferre, then. Only Combeferre. Enjolras stepped outside quietly.  


The front door opened after a while. Enjolras turned his head, expecting Combeferre. But it was Grantaire, standing there with bloodshot eyes and exhausted posture. He didn't say anything, didn't look up at Enjolras. He just sniffled a little, lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply before dragging himself over to the porch railing to stand next to Enjolras. Enjolras didn't know what to do, or what to say, or if he was supposed to even say anything at all. He had been confused and scared since Grantaire started knocking on the door. He settled for accepting an unlit cigarette when Grantaire offered it. The artist lit it for him with deft hands, and the two continued standing in silence. After a moment, Enjolras heard Grantaire shuffle a bit, and then Grantaire was leaning against his side, dropping his head onto Enjolras' shoulder.  


"Ferre is making tea, if you want some," Grantaire mumbled after a beat, voice hoarse from exhaustion.  


"Tea sounds nice," Enjolras replied, kissing the top of his head. There was another silence for a bit, and then;  


"Stay here tonight?" Grantaire asked. His voice was so small, so fragile and Enjolras' heart broke just that much more.  


"Of course," he assured, trying his damnedest to keep his voice steady. Tea was a quiet affair, and then everyone went to bed, feeling heavy and unsettled. Grantaire curled up on his side and Enjolras traced gentle patterns over his back until Grantaire stopped shaking and they both fell into restless slumber.  


Grantaire was already awake by the time Enjolras woke up. He was sitting at his desk, hunched over whatever drawing he was working on. He looked up when he heard Enjolras shuffling around to stretch. He rose from his seat and climbed onto the bed, bracketing Enjolras in with his knees before the blond could sit up. "Don't go blaming yourself," he said, brushing sleep mussed hair out of Enjolras' face. His voice was demanding and his gaze was sharp. "Don't treat me like I'm fragile. Just leave it. That's what I want."  


And with that, he bent down and placed a hard kiss to Enjolras' lips before he could get a word out, and that was the end of it. Grantaire was done talking about it. With those words, he tucked those horrors away, and it was no secret he intended to keep them away as long as he could.  


It had been a week to the day, and Grantaire seemed fine. Perfectly fine, perfectly happy, perfectly alive. Les Amis had finished their meeting, and the group had fallen into warm chatter. Grantaire was perched in a seat next to Enjolras, playing with the blond's hand, when Cosette had started humming. In a short moment, the humming had turned into singing, and Musichetta's and Grantaire's voices chimed in and it was lovely and happy and made Enjolras so, so happy to be surrounded by such beautiful people.  


Enjolras gathered they were singing a song from some musical he didn't know, and soon the three started gesturing and acting the number out, trying not to laugh as they did. They managed to finish out their little scene before falling into a fit of giggles, and Grantaire moved to return to his seat by Enjolras, but stopped short in favor of looking toward the door to the café. Enjolras watched as the smile on Grantaire's face dropped and he immediately put up a hard, emotionless mask.  


Combeferre, of course, also noticed Grantaire's sudden stoniness. Enjolras and Combeferre shared a quick glance before following Grantaire's line of sight to see a woman standing near the door, eyes locked with Grantaire's. She wasn't anyone Enjolras had ever seen before, but he could tell just by the color of her eyes exactly who it was. The woman took a few tentative steps forward, and the others started to realize something was off, glancing around awkwardly. Grantaire still hadn't shown a single hint of emotion. No anger, no excitement, caution, fear. Nothing. It was as if he had turned his entire being off. It was eerie. Enjolras stood up as the woman kept moving, and cautiously took hold of Grantaire's hand. The only sign that Grantaire was feeling anything at all was the vice like grip he suddenly had on Enjolras' hand.  


"Grantaire?" the woman said in a shaky voice, stopping a few feet away.  


"Do you know how much I don't need this right now, Sido?" Grantaire said, tone monotonous and as empty as his face.  


"Grantaire, we're family. We can talk-" the young man cut her off with a sharp, humorless snort of laughter.  


"Family? Correct me if I'm wrong, Sidonie, but I'm pretty sure a family keeps a promise," he bit out, voice tight. "Look around you, because this is what my family looks like. In fact, why don't you have a seat? If we're the family you claim us to be, you can get to know them." He let go of Enjolras' hand to grab a chair and turn it forcefully toward the woman. It almost toppled over in his haste. His voice was starting to sound more hysterical.  


"I'm sure you can have a nice fucking chat with them about how you think it's perfectly acceptable to leave your little fucking brother in a shithole of a home without a god damn word. You and Eponine over there will definitely get along fucking _famously_. She's got a little brother of her own, you know-"  


"Grantaire," Enjolras said lowly into his ear, running a hand up under the back of his shirt, trying to gently draw his attention. It seemed to work immediately, to his surprise. "Petit, I understand you're upset, and you have every right to be, but this is a very public area, and people are watching and I know that's not what you want," he explained quickly, his voice never rising above a whisper. "If you want to scream and yell and get all of this out of your system, I will gladly take you outside." And Grantaire was nodding sharply at those words, and Enjolras shot an apologetic look around the room before leaving the woman to deal with the rest of Les Amis.  


In a familiar set of movements, Enjolras led Grantaire out through the back of the café, and waited for Grantaire's next move. Screaming and yelling was definitely not what happened. Instead, Enjolras found himself stumbling backwards with his arms full of Grantaire, and hands in his hair, and a mouth full of desperate, hard kisses, and he was so lost.  


When Grantaire pulled away, he looked up at Enjolras with unreadable eyes. "I need to go, for a little while," he said with a surprising amount of clarity. If it were possible, Enjolras' expression grew even more worried. A strange sort of smile grew on Grantaire's lips.  


"Calm down, Apollo. Trust me like I'm trusting you, okay? Two way street, cherí." He kissed Enjolras' lips gently. "I just- I need to go before I do something really stupid."  


"Where are you going?" Enjolras managed to ask. Grantaire's smile fell into something so delicate, it hurt a little.  


"To clear my head," he answered before turning away and stalking down the road, a puff of smoke appearing in his wake.  


"You're his sister then?" Enjolras said tightly once he'd gotten back.  


"Yes. I'm Sidonie. Where is he?" the woman asked.  


"Not here. He had somewhere to be," Enjolras said, voice curt and professional. The woman nodded thoughtfully.  


"I don't suppose you'll tell me where he went?" she tried.  


"Not even if I knew."  


"Sidonie, I think you, Enjolras and I need to take this conversation elsewhere," Combeferre started, voice cold and curt. "While we all are his family, this is confidential." The three left the Musain without another word, and took a cab back to Combeferre and Grantaire's little house. Combeferre made tea, and he was quiet. His anger was never loud, if he could help it. His anger was a cold, intimidating thing, like a looming thunderstorm, and he knew how to play his cards.  


"I want you to explain what you're doing here," Combeferre explained, his gaze steady and intense on her as he brought his cup to his lips and took a small sip.  


"He's my baby brother-"  


"And you care about him? Is that it? I'm not convinced," Combeferre said stiffly, one brow rising over the rim of his glasses. Enjolras had a fleeting thought that Combeferre would make quite the successful criminal mastermind.  


"Are you even going to give me a chance? I was young, I made mistakes," Sidonie snapped. "I wanted to come back for him, I really did."  


"Then why didn't you? It's been what, ten years? You had ample time to do some growing up, and you knew exactly where to find him. But you never went back. At the very least, you could have given him an explanation, and even that wouldn't pardon you for leaving him behind. Excuse me if I think you're full of shit," Combeferre explained. His voice was sharp and venomous.  


"I don't think you have any right to be speaking to me like this," the woman said, sitting stiffly with her bag clutched tightly in her hands.  


"I have every right. I'm not above saying I've been a better brother to him than you ever were as his sister, because it's true," he nearly spat.  


"This isn't fair."  


"Yes, well neither is leaving your little brother behind when you were supposed to be looking out for him, I don't know why we keep having to clarify that for you," Enjolras said. There was a tense pause before Combeferre shifted slightly in his seat.  


"I wonder how you would feel if you could have seen him when I met him," he said thoughtfully. He was playing mind games now. He would definitely make a good criminal mastermind, Enjolras concluded. "Or any of the years after. I wonder if you remember how quickly he could be pushed over the edge. Did you think he would just get better once you were gone?"  


That wasn't like Combeferre, to use Grantaire's issues as a weapon. Enjolras furrowed his brows and looked toward Combeferre, who was watching Sidonie with a calculating look. And Enjolras was very worried. What if he had made a mistake when he hadn't insisted on going with Grantaire? Sidonie seemed at a loss for words as well.  


"You two are going to talk, I'll make sure of that. He won't be happy about it, but he will do it. But for now, I suggest you leave a number on your way out. I have to fix this mess," he concluded. Sidonie sighed, defeated, and did as instructed. Once she was gone, Enjolras spun on Combeferre.  


"Please tell me he's not doing something incredibly fucking stupid, Combeferre," he rushed.  


"He deserves the benefit of the doubt, Enjolras," the bespectacled man said, voice and expression just sharp enough to make Enjolras shrink back a little.  


The place looked exactly the same as Grantaire remembered, and that remained true once he stepped inside. The only difference was that it seemed smaller than he remembered, but that just seemed to be part of growing up. Grantaire had never been religious, but in a bout of desperation in his teenage years, when Combeferre was out of town and Grantaire was alone, he found himself in the little church listening to a kind older man read him shit out of the bible. _'I don't fucking need god!' 'Maybe not. But you do need someone, otherwise you wouldn't be here.'_ Grantaire had been to the church enough to know the man basically lived there, and that still seemed to be the case when he appeared out of nowhere with a gentle, welcoming smile on his lips. He looked older, if the completely white hair was anything to go by.  


"My goodness, you've grown," the man greeted as he approached Grantaire. Grantaire couldn't help grinning in return.  


"Maybe just a bit," he shrugged. "It's good to see you Father Myriel."  


"And you as well, Grantaire. I've been worried about you, lately," Father Myriel said. A twinge of guilt settled uncomfortably in Grantaire's gut as he toed at a fraying bit of carpet.  


"Sorry. I know I told you I would check in with you, and I never did," Grantaire said.  


"That isn't true. You're here now. You kept your word, Grantaire, there's no need to apologise," the elderly man said. Grantaire opened his mouth to speak, but was gently interrupted before he could begin. "Come, sit down," the man said, placing a hand between Grantaire's shoulder blades and leading him to the nearest pew. He then proceeded to wait patiently for Grantaire to find the words.  


"Is it possible for things to be incredible and awful at the same time?" Grantaire started slowly, unsure. "That's what everything feels like right now, and I'm terrified of which is going to win." The older man was quiet for a moment.  


"Good and bad things can happen at the same time, of course. I believe, in your opinion, you're the one who decides the winner in the end," he said thoughtfully.  


"What if I can't, though? Things were good. Things still are good, don't get me wrong. But now it's like everything just keeps blowing up in my face at the same time and I'm really fucking confused," Grantaire explained, picking at a hangnail as he spoke. He hesitated before speaking again. "My sister showed up today. I kind of freaked out and left. I have a habit of doing that," he huffed a bitter breath of laughter. "It's been ten years and she thinks she can just come out of nowhere and talk? I don't want to talk to her."  


"You have the right to refuse. But talking to her might answer those questions you had when I met you," Father Myriel said. Grantaire slumped back in his seat and looked up at the ceiling.  


"She's going to want to talk about everything else, too. She'll want to know what I've been up to in the last ten years. She's no more prepared to hear that mess of a story than I am to tell it," he said.  


"How do you know it wouldn't be beneficial to talk to her at all?"  


"I don't owe her any explanations, Father. She may be my big sister and all that shit, but _I'm_ not the one who walked out. I didn't leave her behind," Grantaire explained bitterly.  


"Surely you still have questions for her," the older man said softly.  


"Of course I do. But I've gotten by for ten fucking years without answers. Without her. I have a family, I'm starting to understand that now. I don't need her," Grantaire continued. Father Myriel was quiet for a moment.  


"If you want an honest opinion, I think it would do you well to talk to her. I know you hate the idea of it, but you could gain something. And you know you're always welcome here, if things go wrong or not," the old man said. Grantaire let out a long suffering sigh and dropped his head back, staring at the ceiling. "You've been through quite a lot since last I saw you, Grantaire. I can see the weight you carry. I want to help in any way I can."  


And with that, Grantaire just let loose. He told the man everything, about drugs and Anton. The hospital. Rehab and Enjolras and every little thing he found distressing. He cried just a little bit, and was oddly proud of that fact. He spoke without the fear of sounding mean or selfish or just being fucked up in general. He knew father Myriel would never judge him, he didn't fear it like he feared with Combeferre or any of the others. He left the little church feeling oddly lighter, but tense all the same.  


When he walked into the house, he wasn't all that surprised to see Combeferre and Enjolras perk up cautiously. He didn't blame them for being uncertain. He just rolled his eyes as he shut the door behind him, a wry grin on his lips.  


"Both of you can relax now, please and thank you," he said. And they did, knowing for sure he hadn't been off doing something that could get him in trouble.  


"Are you okay?" Enjolras asked. Grantaire dropped his weight onto the couch, fitting snug between Combeferre and Enjolras.  


"For the time being, yes," he sighed, wiggling around to find a more comfortable position between them.  


"Grantaire-" Combeferre started cautiously.  


"We're not talking about it right now," Grantaire interrupted, voice just stern enough to get his point across. "I want calm right now, we can all be pissy later. You two are warm and I'm tired, let me have this."  


Morning came much too soon, and Grantaire woke up to an empty bed and harsh whispers outside his bedroom door. To his understanding, Combeferre was trying to get Enjolras to force Grantaire out of bed and into responsibility, and Enjolras didn't like the idea. Enjolras lost the battle with a grumbled 'Fine.' and quietly opened the door. Grantaire was lying on his side, watching Enjolras enter the room.  


"Your definition of whispering seems a little skewed," he said, rubbing the sleep out of his face.  


"Did I wake you up?" the blond asked sheepishly. Grantaire shrugged half heartedly.  


"That was your goal anyway, wasn't it?" he stated more than asked, voice rough with sleep. Enjolras returned the shrug.  


"Combeferre wants to treat you to breakfast before anything else," he said. Grantaire sat up and stretched languidly, scratching at his belly.  


"No amount of fucking terrible, wonderful breakfast food is going to make me want to do any of this," he said. Enjolras approached as Grantaire swung his legs over the side of the bed, and swooped in to wrap his arms around Grantaire, still sleep warm and loose limbed. Grantaire pressed his forehead against Enjolras' belly and sighed heavily.  


"I'll go with you to talk to her if you want. I won't interfere or anything. But if you want me there, I'll go," Enjolras offered.  


"I think I should go alone. As much as I would love to have you and Ferre come, I have to deal with this myself, and you have classes to go to," Grantaire said, pulling up the edge of Enjolras' shirt to press soft kisses and nibbles to the skin of his stomach. That strange flutter of shock still hit him, still baffled that he was allowed to touch and kiss. Eventually, Grantaire forced himself to break away from Enjolras and get ready to face the day.  


Combeferre and Grantaire were sitting at a table in a little café, and Combeferre made sure Grantaire got enough to eat, and kept conversation light throughout their meal. Once they were done, he slid his phone across the table, having saved Sidonie's number, and watched Grantaire.  


"Assuming your plan was to talk to her today," he said. Grantaire sighed.  


"Might as well. The sooner this is over with the better," he muttered, grabbing the phone.  


A few rings passed before Sidonie answered. "Hello?"  


"I'll try to be relatively civil with you today, but don't expect this to change anything. The damage is done and there's no fixing what you did," Grantaire said, voice curt.  


"Oh. Okay, then. Did you want to meet for brunch or anything?" Sidonie said awkwardly. Grantaire resisted the urge to scoff. Fucking _brunch_. Jesus.  


"I already ate," he said flatly. "Let's just meet and get on with our lives, okay?"  


"Get on with our lives? Grantaire, I can deal with your friends not giving me a chance to speak, but you're my _brother_. We're _family_. I don't want to do this and never talk again. I mean, you've got a niece, I want you to meet her someday. She reminds me of you so much-" Sidonie explained, sounding panicked, but Grantaire cut her off.  


"We aren't doing this on your terms, Sido. I may have been just fucking happy doing that when we were kids, but things changed. I grew up. The only thing I want you to tell me right now is the address to wherever you're staying," Grantaire said harshly.  


"I have class, but don't hesitate to call if you need anything," Combeferre said once the phone call ended and Grantaire had a chance to regain his composure. "Remember to breathe," he added, bracing his hand on the back of Grantaire's neck for a moment before they went their separate ways.  


Grantaire took his time getting to the hotel. He needed to go in as levelheaded as possible, but it was so hard to calm himself down. He felt on edge already, twitchy and nervous. He found himself in the elevator all too soon, stiff and uncomfortable.  


And then he was in front of her door.  


And then he was knocking.  


And then he was standing inside.  


"You can sit, if you want," Sidonie offered. Grantaire couldn't really get past the fact that she was staying in such a fancy fucking hotel. It was ridiculous, kind of.  


"Well you seem to have it made," he said, slipping casually into the chair by the window. False confidence, always his weapon of choice. Sidonie was quiet, and he just stared her down as steady as he could. "How did you find me, anyway?" he then asked.  


"The, um... The news gave me the idea. They showed footage back home of the riot that broke out at that protest your group had and I saw you, and I wanted to find you then, but I figured I ought to wait. Some things came up recently, so I looked up what I could about your group and it led me here," she explained. Grantaire nodded thoughtfully, and was quiet for a long moment, chewing on his lower lip. He figured he might as well just cut to the chase.  


"Why did you do it?" he asked. "I asked you, I fucking _begged_ you to take me with you, and you just left. You've had ten years to think of an answer." He left out the 'don't disappoint me' bit. He would be surprised if it ended any differently.  


Sidonie floundered helplessly for a moment, words failing her. "I don't- I don't know, Grantaire," she finally said. Grantaire's brows lifted and he scoffed.  


"Don't spare my fucking feelings _now_ , just tell me the truth," he snapped.  


"God dammit, I didn't know how to deal with you, okay? You were always so extreme with your emotions, I didn't know what to do with you half the time. I couldn't support us both, and watch you all at the same time," she rushed. Grantaire breathed, like Combeferre told him to. It didn't help, the pressure building up in his chest.  


"Did you ever think there might have been a reason why?" he asked, voice shaking just a little. "It's not exactly unheard of for people to be bipolar. You knew I wasn't functioning well enough to help myself. It's not even that part that bothers me the most, it's-" a sharp, almost hysterical peal of laughter cut him off momentarily. That whole keeping his temper thing wasn't really working out so well. "It's that you broke your word. And you didn't even bother to check in. At all. You know, _for ten years_. Do you have any idea how much shit I've put Combeferre through? He's been cleaning up this whole fucking mess since the day I met him."  


"Grantaire, I didn't know," Sidonie said desperately. "How was I supposed to? There was so much going on, you're not the only one who had it bad."  


"That's not the point, Sido. Yeah, I fucking get it, Mom and Dad are awful people, I was there, remember? Imagine what happened when you left me there with them," Grantaire snapped.  


"We can fight about this all day, it's not going to change anything. You're still going to resent me no matter what I tell you, and we're still going to have that fucked up part of ourselves the rest of our lives," Sidonie explained.  


"Then why are you here?" Grantaire said. Half yelled, really. "Did you expect your little visit to go any differently? What do you fucking _want_?"  


"Mom's sick. She has been for a while, I don't think she'll make it much longer," Sidonie said uneasily. Grantaire was quiet.  


"Well I can't do anything about that," he finally said, voice tight.  


"My husband and I, we've um... We've been taking care of her. She didn't want to stay in a hospital," Sidonie continued. "She asked to see you," she added, voice small. Grantaire furrowed his brows.  


"That doesn't make any sense. Why would she want that?" he said.  


"Horrible mother or not, I think it's a reasonable request for someone who might not last another month. She's changed since we were kids, Grantaire," Sido explained. Grantaire was quiet for a long time.  


"Fine. Let me get school and work in order," he agreed.  


Grantaire was not in a good mood while he prepared to make the journey to Lyon. He was on edge. Shut off from everyone else. He was snappy and the figurative spikes were back.  


"I think you should go with him, E," Combeferre said the day before Grantaire's departure. Enjolras looked up from his laptop, furrowing his brows.  


"You know more about all this than I do, Ferre. It might be more your right to go than mine. He won't even let me touch him recently, what makes you think he would even want me to go?" he said. Combeferre gave him a look.  


"He's not acting like that to spite you, you know. He's just angry, and scared. Trust me when I say he really doesn't want to go alone. I know you want to understand him, this is a good way to do it," he explained.  


"If I tell him I want to go, he's just going to fight me about it," Enjolras said.  


"You don't know that for sure," Combeferre said. Enjolras huffed.  


"I do. The last time he told me anything about his family, he gave me the Cliffnotes. He doesn't want to tell me, he definitely won't want to bring me right in."  


Combeferre sighed. "You're starting this 'fight' when he's not even awake to be a part of it, you know that right? Besides, I'm slightly horrible and may have already contacted your professors with a family emergency you were too distraught to tell them about yourself," he smirked as Enjolras just stared at him in shock. "Go wake him up, talk to him about going. I'll fix us some dinner," he added, standing up and escaping to the kitchen. Combeferre was right, so Enjolras stood up and went to Grantaire's bedroom, opening the door quietly. Grantaire was sprawled out on his stomach, fast asleep with Bleu curled up against his side. He let out a very small snore and stirred just a little, and Enjolras really didn't want to wake him up. He'd been exhausting himself.  


But he had to, so he moved the cat gently onto the floor and sat down on the edge of the bed. He placed a hand on Grantaire's bare back and shook lightly. "Hey," he said quietly as Grantaire shifted. The dark haired man rolled over onto his back to look up with tired eyes at Enjolras.  


"Hi," he answered, voice rough, and he grinned a sleepy little grin, and Enjolras couldn't help it. There was no way he wasn't going to take advantage of Grantaire's good mood. He went from sitting on the edge of the bed, to basically lying on top of Grantaire, wanting nothing more than to sink into his sleep warm body, to take what he could while it was allowed. Grantaire was still smiling when Enjolras kissed him, soft and sweet.  


"I have a proposition for you," Enjolras said, peppering kisses along Grantaire's jaw.  


"And what might that be?" Grantaire asked.  


"Can I go with you? To Lyon. I'd like to," Enjolras said, tentative.  


"Why?" Grantaire questioned. Enjolras shrugged.  


"Because you don't want to go alone. Because I want to be with you. And maybe a little bit because I want to disrespect your sisters guest room with you," he said, and Grantaire snorted a loud laugh.  


"And here I thought you were the mature one," he said, dipping his head to bite gently at Enjolras' neck. "You can come, but what about school?" he added.  


"Don't worry about that, Combeferre may have intervened. It's only for a few days, I mostly just have to study for finals anyway," Enjolras said. Grantaire groaned.  


"Fuck, it's almost time for finals already, isn't it?" he said.  


"Unfortunately, yes. You'll do fine, I know you will. Get up, R, Combeferre's making dinner," Enjolras said, placing one more kiss to Grantaire's lips before pulling himself up and off the bed. Grantaire's good mood didn't last. Enjolras returned to Combeferre's and Grantaire's little house the next morning with a bag packed, and one look at the artist told Enjolras everything he needed to know. He was staring at his coffee like it had offended him and didn't exactly acknowledge anything else until he was saying goodbye to Combeferre.  


Enjolras kept his distance on the way to the train. He kept his distance once they were on the train, and once they were seated, and he really, really just wanted to touch Grantaire. He wanted to touch him and shower him with stupid little kisses until he smiled, but he wouldn't. Enjolras tried to pass the time by studying, and emailing details of the next protest to Combeferre. That lasted about half an hour. Grantaire pushed his study materials out of his lap and onto the next seat, and was in the process of straddling Enjolras' lap before the blond could really figure out what was going on. He gave Grantaire a confused look but it went ignored as Grantaire wrapped his arms around Enjolras' neck and slumped miserably against him.  


Enjolras returned the hug and rested his chin on Grantaire's shoulder, rubbing a comforting hand along his back. Grantaire sighed a heavy sigh and said nothing. Eventually, they had shifted and Grantaire's legs were sprawled over Enjolras' lap, and he was more or less curled up against him, head tucked under Enjolras' chin. He fell asleep that way, and Enjolras didn't blame him. He hadn't slept very well recently, Enjolras could deal with half of his limbs going numb for a while.  


"I should warn you," Grantaire said once they were in a cab, startling Enjolras a bit. Grantaire hadn't said much of anything on the entire four hour train ride. "Sidonie may be a bit on the bourgeois side of society. Try not to let it get under your skin. Actually, no, _do_ let it get under your skin. Fight her and her husband as much as you can," he explained. Enjolras huffed a small breath of laughter.  


"We'll see what happens, petit," he said. The cab dropped them off outside of a fancy gate, and Enjolras knew right then and there, he was going to have _words_ with these people even if he hadn't gotten Grantaire's permission.  


"This is. Unnecessary," he said under his breath as Grantaire pushed the intercom button. It wasn't exactly a mansion, but it was close enough.  


"Hello?" Sidonie's familiar voice chimed through the speaker.  


"Yes hello, I'm here with this weeks delivery of the peoples money you use to wipe your ass," Grantaire said dryly. Enjolras failed to hide his laughter. The intercom was silent for a long moment.  


"I'll buzz you two in," Sidonie said finally, resigned. Sidonie was waiting in the open door for them, a little girl by her side, looking up with big curious eyes. And there was a man by them both, presumably the husband. Judging by the way Enjolras tensed beside Grantaire, and the look on his face, it was someone he recognized and definitely didn't like.  


"Grantaire this is my husband, Von Duval, and our daughter, Zuri," Sido introduced. Zuri smiled, shy, and Grantaire waved a little wave at her.  


"This is Enjolras, if you possibly wanted to acknowledge him," Grantaire said, his gaze flicking back to his sister as he gestured to Enjolras. "I'm sure your husband and he will get along just fine," he added with a completely insincere, wide smile.  


"Well, um. Come in, get settled," Sidonie said in a poor attempt to derail the conversation. "Mom's been having a rough day and she's sleeping, so you can just uh. Relax I guess." They were lead to one of the two guest rooms, the bigger one with a connecting bathroom, and then pretty much just left to their own devices. Enjolras never exactly liked long train rides. They left him feeling groggy and admittedly dirty, so he pressed a kiss to Grantaire's cheek and disappeared into the bathroom for a quick shower.  


Grantaire wasn't in the room when Enjolras was done. He found a note on the bed with Grantaire's spidery handwriting on it. It read: _I've been kidnapped by a child. Apparently the one good thing about this place is the dance studio. -R_  


It took a little bit of searching, but eventually, Enjolras found him. It was an impressive little studio, from what little Enjolras knew about them. Grantaire and Zuri were sitting in the middle of the floor, stretching. Grantaire had changed his clothes into a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. "R?" Enjolras called out, and Grantaire looked over his shoulder.  


"Hi," he said with a small smile. "Zuri wouldn't take no for an answer. So I'm gonna show her some stuff since her dance teacher won't go fast enough or something."  


"I didn't know you actually danced," Enjolras said, brow furrowing. Grantaire snorted a laugh.  


"Of course I dance, it's the one thing I made sure I had consistently, growing up. I don't just stand on tables and wiggle my hips," he said, amused. "Wait, you have no idea how I met Ferre, do you?" he added. Enjolras shook his head, confused.  


"We met when I was fourteen. Dance class at school. His mom was the kind of mom who had put him in dance when he was little, and he sort of just always had done it. We had some partner dance project and I didn't want to work with anyone so Ferre just sort of forced his partnership on me. Then his friendship. Anyway, he's a wonderful dancer, get him drunk enough and he might show off," Grantaire explained, then he stood and gestured Zuri to follow.  


"We're gonna do ballet, kid. Our sizes aren't compatible for you know. The waltz. Or the tango," Grantaire told her. She giggled. Enjolras wasn't entirely sure if a child that age new what compatible meant, but he didn't bother voicing it. He stayed to watch, but his presence went mostly ignored as Grantaire instructed the girl. Grantaire always had a grace about him, it wasn't hard to see that. Enjolras was just slightly irritated that he never considered that grace might come from dancing.  


Enjolras watched in wonder throughout the lesson. Grantaire was graceful, but it was a different thing entirely watching him move that way. The fluid, feline movements looked so natural, easier than breathing. Enjolras had never realized Grantaire was quite so flexible either. He didn't know what was going on as Grantaire had Zuri mimic his movements, but some of the moves just looked painful, and Grantaire did them without even a grimace. There was so much that made Grantaire beautiful, and Enjolras wanted to know it all.  


Sidonie had made dinner for them all, and it was an awkward affair. She made the mistake of asking Grantaire what he had been doing in their time apart. Grantaire, who had made it his soul purpose to make everything about dinner uncomfortable, had smirked and looked at her across the table. His smirk was some mixture of tight and unhappy, and mischievous at the same time.  


"Drugs, alcoholism, incredibly unsafe sex. Just to sum it all up," he drawled, not phased in the slightest bit by Sido's shocked intake of breath. Zuri was too busy playing with her peas to question anything. "And more recently, him," he added, looking at Enjolras, his expression softening just a little. Enjolras blushed and kicked at Grantaire's shin under the table. When he looked back at his sister, he seemed to be silently daring her to say anything else.  


Grantaire's mother woke up shortly after dinner, but he panicked and refused to see her. Sidonie was given no choice but to accept it, thanks to Enjolras arguing on Grantaire's behalf, and let them disappear into the guest room for the night. As soon as the door was shut behind them, Grantaire's entire demeanor changed. He had been like a cornered animal the majority of the day, snappy and ready to pounce at a moments notice. But as soon as he and Enjolras were in the privacy of the guest room, it stopped. His shoulders fell and he slumped against the door with a heavy sigh. He looked suddenly exhausted.  


"I want to go home," he said. Groaned, really. Enjolras huffed a quiet laugh.  


"It's only for a few days. We'll be back in Paris before you know it," he said, sympathetic. Grantaire gave him an unimpressed look.  


"Shut up."  


Enjolras was awake before Grantaire the next morning. It was still early, so he let him sleep and left the room quietly in search of caffeine. He found Von and Sido in the kitchen. "Good morning," Sido greeted warily. Enjolras waved groggily. "Mugs are in the cabinet over the sink," she added. He could feel her discomfort as he stirred in milk and sugar, and turned to face the pair expectantly once he was finished.  


"Can I ask a question without starting an argument?" she asked.  


"If it's about politics, probably not," Enjolras replied over the rim of his coffee cup, giving Von a pointed look.  


"It's not," Sido said. "It's about Grantaire."  


"Well in that case, I'll cooperate if it's reasonable," he said.  


"Is he on any medication for his bipolar disorder?" she asked. Enjolras figured it was within the realm of reasonable questions to ask.  


"No. He had discussed the possibility of it with a psychologist when he was in rehab, but it was decided he wouldn't be medicated unless it starts getting worse," he explained. "He's been doing well, actually. I mean it's hard to say where he's at exactly, I'm still figuring it out myself, but he's been doing well. Just grumpy." Sido nodded thoughtfully.  


"Is his forgiveness out of the question?" she asked, tentative. Enjolras took a long sip of his coffee. It was too early in the day to be snarky.  


"You'd have to ask him that. I may be with him, but he doesn't talk to me about this sort of thing. He only gives me a little bit at a time, and I won't push him for more if I don't find it necessary," he said. "But I can tell you he loves you. He wouldn't be this upset otherwise," he added. Sido was about to say more, but Grantaire came trudging into the kitchen, bleary eyed and half asleep. He shuffled up beside Enjolras and nipped at his shoulder. Enjolras placed a kiss to the top of his sleep mussed hair.  


"Morning," Grantaire sighed into his shirt before moving toward the coffee pot. Sido waited for her brother to fix a cup of coffee before speaking.  


"Mom's awake, if you wanted to see her now," she said gently. She didn't want a replay of the previous night.  


"Can I have my coffee first, your Highness?" he said, a defensive set to his features as he stared at his sister.  


"Oh. Yes, of course. I have to take Zuri to school soon. You two can just, um. Have some time," Sido said awkwardly, leading her husband out of the kitchen.  


"The minute I wake up is not the time for this shit," Grantaire snipped into his mug.  


"I know, petit. But you will have to see her eventually, you know that," Enjolras said.  


"Yeah," Grantaire said on a sigh, pushing himself off of the counter he was leaning against. He kissed Enjolras lightly on the lips and pulled back to smile mischievously. "I'm going to shower. You're more than welcome to join me. We can disrespect that as well," he said. Enjolras laughed.  


"We're finishing our coffee and brushing our teeth first," he said.  


"But you know there's nothing better than shower sex with coffee flavored morning breath," Grantaire whined, teasing smile never leaving his lips.  


It seemed they were ready for the day all too soon, despite the mornings (rather pleasant) distractions, and Grantaire was suddenly back in battle mode. Enjolras went with him as he finally went to see his mother. Grantaire paused outside her bedroom door, hand hovering just over the handle.  


"Keep in mind, you can simply get up and leave if she upsets you. You can stand up for yourself now, you have a choice. You have a voice. And if all else fails, I will gladly cut in," Enjolras said. Grantaire looked over his shoulder, and Enjolras couldn't read his expression. There was something just on the tip of Grantaire's tongue, Enjolras could see the words trying to force their way out, but they were left unsaid. Instead, Grantaire placed a swift kiss to Enjolras' lips and turned to stalk through the door. He stood in the doorway for a long moment, and Enjolras thought he would have to push him through, but he moved suddenly, stiff. Enjolras followed him in quietly.  


The woman in the bed stared up at Grantaire, looking awkward and nervous and incredibly sick. She had the same curly, dark hair as Grantaire, the same blue eyes. She was a pretty woman, even with sickness hanging heavy over her. The resemblance was incredible between the two. "You've grown so much," she said at last, voice weak and sad. Her eyes immediately grew glassy and red.  


"It's only been like five years. I can't have grown up that much," Grantaire replied, voice wobbling. His hand drifted up to tug at his hair, and Enjolras forced himself to stay back.  


"Grantaire, you look like you're about to fall over. Both of you, sit, please," the woman said, patting the side of her bed. Grantaire hesitated, but shuffled over and sat next to her, Enjolras close behind. "Would you mind making introductions?" she said, smiling small and nervous at her son.  


"Oh, right. This is my, um... This is Enjolras. He's sort of my-" Grantaire stuttered out, not really able to find the words. He ended up weaving shaky fingers between Enjolras' own, lifting their hands to kiss his knuckles. "I like him a lot, I guess," he finished lamely.  


"Does he make you happy?" she asked, gaze intense on R. A blush broke out on his cheeks, and he nodded, a feeble grin on his lips. The woman mirrored the grin, before turning her gaze to Enjolras. "Treat him well. God knows I never did, and I hate myself every day for it," she said.  


"I'm doing my best," Enjolras said quietly.  


"Sido hasn't mentioned Dad," Grantaire said suddenly. "Is there a reason he's not here?"  


His mother huffed a humorless laugh. "I haven't seen your father in years," she said. Grantaire's brows furrowed in confusion, so she explained further. "After your incident with the pills, when your friend saved your life, it put things into perspective I think. I was so numb because of your father, so distanced from everything. But when you're staring your own sons suicide in the face, things change very quickly." Grantaire stiffened beside Enjolras at her words, and Enjolras' stomach sank. "Once your friend took you away and cut all ties to us, I cut ties with your father. I didn't know I could have ever had a family until it was gone. I regret not being a stronger woman. I hate myself for just standing by and ignoring my own children when they needed me."  


"It sucks and all, I know," Grantaire said. "But don't do that to yourself now. I mean, look what's become of us. Your daughter is rich and she's got a kid and a family and all that. She's happy. I'm obviously not dead. I've got a cat, and friends, and this guy and I'm not a complete fuck up," Grantaire explained. His mother huffed.  


"That's all well and good, but it doesn't change the fact that I was horrible to you both, and I can't fix it now. The damage is done," she said. Enjolras saw where Grantaire got his argumentative side. Grantaire sighed.  


"Okay, you're right, but stop it. It's done. It's not worth the energy," he said, exasperated. They talked for a while longer, steering clear of any touchy subjects, but eventually all the talking started taking a toll on the woman, so Grantaire and Enjolras left her to rest. Grantaire was stiff as they left the room, and he wouldn't even look at Enjolras.  


"Grantaire-"  


"Don't say it, Enjolras," Grantaire snapped, still looking at the floor as he walked.  


"I think it's something we need to talk about," Enjolras retorted, stern.  


"Right, well I don't really give a shit what you _think_."  


Enjolras was slightly taken aback by the words, and the sharpness to Grantaire's voice, but he didn't back down. Instead, he grabbed Grantaire's arm and pulled him to a stop, and Grantaire turned to face him finally. "Stop trying to run from this, R. You can talk to me, you know I'm not going to judge you," he said. Grantaire glared, and tugged his arm harshly out of Enjolras' grip.  


"Yeah, because you never judged me before we got together, right? You never called me a drunk, you never called me a junkie, you never said anything judgmental to me, yeah? I don't know if you've noticed, but you have a tendency to be a gaping _asshole_ sometimes, so forgive me for not wanting to open up to you the minute we get together. It's such a shame that I didn't just up and tell you I tried to fucking kill myself five years ago, right? I beg your pardon, O Captain, my Captain. Let me go sit and think about how awful of me it was to leave that out."  


He was gone before Enjolras could even try to speak. When Enjolras could move again, he followed the direction Grantaire went and looked out the front window. Grantaire was standing outside, angrily puffing at a cigarette. Enjolras went to their room and called Combeferre, hoping he would answer.  


"I fucked up, Ferre," he started when his friend picked up.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg I know its been like eighty four years please forgive me.  
> Also, I like the idea of Enj being like six feetish and R being like 5'5" or so and Enj just really likes calling him little, even if it's not a massive difference.  
> Also also, I'm making a blog to post about Les Mis things, I'll post a link when it's ready to go!

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't hurt me if this isn't to your liking. Which I'm really hoping you do enjoy it.


End file.
